


Peccant

by immistermercury



Series: peccant!verse [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (again nothing graphic), Alternate Universe - Hospital, Control, Domestic Violence, Emergency Medicine, M/M, Referenced Sexual Assault, Referenced Suicide Attempt, conversations around suicide, escape from domestic violence, focused on injury instead, it does have a happy ending!, it's the 1980s they're not gemmed up to the signs, jim is a consultant, not graphic, not movie spoilers don't worry, not so much graphic depictions of violence, people who've read fluorescent - that is worse, references to death within a&e, some thoughts after it chapter two, the dark side of the domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 94,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: “Hello-” He started; he paused as he was struck by the beauty of the man in front of him. Behind the blood, behind the bruises, were the prettiest pair of dark eyes, dark lashes, tanned skin and an earnest look of concern on his face as he tried to consol a tired little girl. The man beside him, his husband, was murmuring a few words in his ear that Jim wasn’t partial to, bouncing a little boy on his knee as he did so. “I’m Jim Hutton, I’m the consultant on duty this evening.”The husband stood up and offered a hand. “I’m Paul.” He said, voice laced with lazy confidence. “This is my husband, Freddie.”





	1. Sin

**Author's Note:**

> This is deliberately ambiguous/bitty I promise

PART ONE

His neck ached, and his back ached, and his eyes were tired; night shifts were never his favourite, but he took them more often than not for the money. He authorised a few prescriptions, tapping out lazy messages onto his computer, glancing every few moments at the clock to see how far he was from his first break of the night. He loved working as a doctor, especially since he’d achieved consultant status, but slow nights never had the excitement of fast nights in the emergency department.

“I’ve got one for you.” A nurse came over to him and smiled at him. “Guy’s been beaten black and blue down at the funfair. Heard something about homophobia.”

Jim stood up and brushed off his scrubs. “What’s the assessment?”

“I’m not sure. He’s not very happy being touched.” He shrugged. “I think he’s probably broken his arm, but he’s pretty out of breath, so he might have damaged a lung. Scrapes and bruises, otherwise.”

“I’ll patch him up.” He nodded. “I’ll need you to take over if we have a trauma call come in.”

“I can do that.” He agreed and held the door open. “I just thought it might be good for you to start. His husband’s very worried for him.”

Jim moved past him quickly and sanitised his hands before walking into the little cubicle. “Hello-” He started; he paused as he was struck by the beauty of the man in front of him. Behind the blood, behind the bruises, were the prettiest pair of dark eyes, dark lashes, tanned skin and an earnest look of concern on his face as he tried to consol a tired little girl. The man beside him, his husband, was murmuring a few words in his ear that Jim wasn’t partial to, bouncing a little boy on his knee as he did so. “I’m Jim Hutton, I’m the consultant on duty this evening.”

The husband stood up and offered a hand. “I’m Paul.” He said, voice laced with lazy confidence. “This is my husband, Freddie.”

“It’s lovely to meet you.” He shook his hand and turned to Freddie. “What happened here?” He offered, voice softening automatically.

“We took the children to a funfair.” Paul sat beside Freddie again and took his hand; even that was shaking. “And unfortunately, not everyone was there for the same kind of fun as we were. Freddie got caught up in a fight, a few guys attacked him when they realised we were in a relationship.”

“Is that right, Freddie?” Jim asked sympathetically. 

“Yes.” He replied, voice soft and a little wheezy. 

“Can you tell me where hurts?” He asked, pulling up a stool beside him and sanitising his hands again before carefully tilting his face up. 

“He said that it’s mainly his arm and his chest. Of course, the cuts hurt too, but not as much.” Paul explained and squeezed his hand lightly, kissing the back of his hand. 

“Can I listen to your chest first?” Jim asked him carefully. “That’s what I need to check first, just in case there’s any internal damage.” 

Freddie nodded and let Jim press a stethoscope to his back, allowing him to listen to the wheezing of his chest. “Do you have conditions?” He checked.

“Asthma.” He replied quietly. “But I’m bad at remembering my inhaler.” Sentences sounded prolonged and painful, wheezing between words; Jim felt immediately sympathetic towards him.

“Oh, darling!” Paul leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You didn’t say it was that kind of tightness! I always bring a spare inhaler.” He smiled up at Jim and got it from his pocket. “Just because he has a tendency to forget, and it’s so awful when he’s unable to breathe.”

“What a sweet husband you have.” He smiled at Freddie as he shook it quickly, looking relieved; he was trying to make him relax, open up a little. 

“I’m very lucky.” Freddie said quietly, looking over with a smile that looked more painful than his speaking sounded.

“You certainly sound it.” Jim listened to his chest again, relieved that it sounded a little better. He tilted his head up and checked his face, gently touching different areas to feel for any damage: Freddie flinched when he touched his cheekbone. “Does that hurt?”

“A little.” He whispered. “It’s not too bad, my pain tolerance is awful.”

“You must be in agony.” Jim frowned. “Would you like any painkillers?”

He shook his head quickly. “No thank you.” He frowned. 

“Okay.” He agreed. He checked the area over his cheek and around his nose and nodded to himself. “I think you might have a break here, were you hit especially hard?”

Freddie seemed unable to form words for himself, and so Paul stepped in. “They had a few bottles, they were drunk, and they used them to hit him.” He rubbed a hand over Freddie’s back. “He’s so shaken, I’m sorry he’s so quiet.”

“You don’t have to apologise.” Jim promised. “I’ll clean up your injuries now, and then I’ll send you up to x-ray for that arm.”

“Thank you.” Freddie whispered. “How long will I be here for?”

“I can’t give you a number until I know how bad your injuries are. It may well be an overnight stay, just to keep an eye on things.” Jim explained soothingly. 

“Could you take the children home?” Freddie turned to Paul, looking at the children between them. “They’re tired, they need to sleep.”

“Can we not get a family room?” Paul looked over at Jim. “I can’t handle the children on my own. I’d rather you had them.”

“I can see what I can do, no promises.” Jim smiled. “It might be a good time to go and collect some things if you need to, while he goes up to x-ray.”

* * *

The family room was quiet, and Freddie sat cross-legged in the bed, holding his daughter closely. He was incredibly frightened, rocking her back and forth with shaking hands, to the point that his chest was beginning to hurt, his stomach was aching, he felt he could be sick: he relieved the day over and over in his mind, torturing him.

He looked up quickly when Jim knocked on the door and tried his best to smile. “Hello.” He said shyly, immediately looking around for Paul despite knowing he wasn’t there.

“Hello, Freddie.” He left the door open as he came and sat in the chair opposite his bed. “I got your results back from x-ray.”

“Is it bad?” He asked quietly, trying not to wince when his son crawled into his lap. 

“You’ve broken your cheekbone and your nose, and we need to put a cast on your forearm.” He explained. “I just wanted to check with you that I have your consent to do that.”

“Can you ask my husband?” Freddie asked, unable to meet Jim’s eyes. “He likes to make decisions.”

“Of course.” Jim smiled. “How long have you been married?” He asked, assuming a neutral topic of conversation to try and relax him.

“Twelve years. I’m thirty-four, so we married when I was twenty-two. We were childhood sweethearts.” It was a sweet story, but Jim expected more emotion behind it; Freddie seemed so blank. “My daughter, Holly, she’s three, and my son Xavier is two.”

“They’re lovely children.” Jim noticed the smudge of a bruise on the little girl’s arm as she stretched and then curled up: Freddie pulled the blanket up over her when he caught Jim looking. “Do you have a job?”

“No.” Freddie said quietly. “No, my husband’s wonderful and he provides everything we need. It’s my job to look after him and the children.”

“I don’t often hear such traditional values in this day and age.” Jim smiled. 

“I’m very lucky.” Freddie nodded. “I’m lucky to have someone that can take such good care of me.”

“Of course. I think we all look for that in a partner.” Jim chuckled. “Are there any other areas of pain or injuries you’d like me to have a look at? I’m sure they must have gotten you in places other than your face and your arm.”

Freddie shook his head but the little girl finally uncurled from his chest, whimpering a little _ “daddy?” _to get his attention. “Could you-” Freddie paused. “My daughter, she poured my coffee on her arm by accident, could you take a look at the burn?”

“Of course I can!” He said quickly - he couldn’t believe the little girl had kept it quiet for so long. “Can you roll up her sleeve?”

Freddie helped her take her jacket off, hoping that Jim would ignore the bruises on her arms, hoping that he’d write them off as the bruises of childhood, casual playground bumps. “She’s awfully clumsy.” He apologised quietly.

Jim nodded and carefully cleaned her arm. “Did you do anything to help the burn when she first got it?”

“I ran it under cold water and applied some aloe vera.” Freddie said softly. 

“Why didn’t you bring her in? She must’ve been in so much pain.” Jim frowned, beginning to feel a little suspicious.

“I’ve lost my house keys.” Freddie justified himself quickly. “I wouldn’t have been able to get home for the rest of the day, and I couldn’t ask my husband to help because he was at work and I couldn’t interrupt him. It happened this morning, but she wanted to go to the fair because she said her arm didn’t hurt anymore.”

* * *

_ The husband was drunk by the time he got back, but Jim was asleep in his call-room and Freddie’s sweet smile was enough to assuage any doubts. _

* * *

“Thank you for patching me up, doctor.” Freddie smiled, looking exhausted; his husband’s arm was tight around his waist, holding him up. “I’m going to go home, now.”

“It really is advisable for you to stay for a few more hours-” Jim insisted, but Freddie shook his head. 

“I’m all fixed, thank you.” He echoed again, before turning to the exit of the hospital, hands tight on the children and smile tight on his face.


	2. Trampoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's taught them to do these things for a reason.

The children had managed to get away and hide this time, which was a relief. Freddie knew that Holly would be under her bed, behind a storage box of children’s books, while Xavier would be at the back of his wardrobe, underneath a pile of soft toys, unable to be seen and unable to be hurt; he couldn’t say the same for himself, but his body had become more of an inconvenience than something to be mourned.

He had a routine when it was over, a routine that started in the kitchen, the outside door locked, leaving him the option of staying where he was, going upstairs to the children, or venturing into the lounge where he wasn’t allowed. He would turn on the coffee-maker, pressing on it to try and make it a little quieter, and he’d get the ice from the freezer: today it was applied haphazardly to welts on his back, but tomorrow it might be his face, and the day after it might be bruises on his ass.

The children knew, when the coffee-maker started to shake, that it was safe to come out, that their daddy was still functioning. He didn’t especially enjoy coffee, but he knew it would help relax his chest when he wasn’t allowed his inhaler: he couldn’t afford to let himself panic in case it got any worse. “Daddy?” Holly asked quietly, sucking on her thumb, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hello, darling.” Freddie went to smile, but thought better of it: she was still upset that he’d lost one of his teeth. 

“Are you hurt?” She asked quietly, coming closer fearfully. 

“No, sweetheart.” Freddie held his good arm out for her. “No, Papa and I just talked, that’s all.” They both knew he was lying, but Holly swallowed it like medicine regardless, trying to wipe out the sound of crying that she’d heard earlier.

His chest was getting tighter, and he swallowed two mouthfuls of his coffee to try and relax it quickly, before taking his little girl in his arms to try and comfort her. “What shall we do tonight?” He asked her.

She looked out of the window and came out with the same answer as always, the one that always made Freddie sad. “Can we trampoline?”

“I can ask Papa if he’ll do it with you.” Freddie sighed, though they both knew he would never ask.

“I want to do it with you.” Little tears sprung in Holly’s eyes and Freddie’s chest tightened further with stress: if the children cried, then Freddie wouldn’t be able to protect them. 

“I know, sweetheart.” Freddie rubbed her back, feeling tears of his own welling at his throat, cutting off his airway even further. “But you know Papa doesn’t like me- me messing up your beautiful garden, and- I- I don’t want to make him cross. I can s-sit here and- and watch you.”

She nodded, knowing better than to argue, and pulled back when she heard Freddie struggling to breathe. “Are you okay?” She asked again.

“I’m just-” He sat back against one of the counters, forcing himself through a series of deep breaths. “I’m just- tight, darling.” He forced a smile, tight-lipped and painful.

“Inhaler?” She asked. “From Papa?”

“If you could-” He started, but she was already running into the lounge. 

The coughing started when he heard the strike of skin on skin, knowing that Holly had gotten hurt for his sake, and he closed his eyes as he heard footsteps heading for him. “Do you need your inhaler, baby?” Paul knelt opposite where Freddie was struggling and took it from his pocket, holding it tauntingly just out of reach. 

“Please-” Freddie whimpered, looking so much smaller and more vulnerable in front of him.

“That’s a shame.” He put it in his pocket and lit a cigarette, knowing the smoke made his chest so much worse. “I’m going out. Put dinner on the table by the time I’m home.”

Freddie watched him leave, panic rising in his throat: he wasn’t getting enough air to wheeze anymore. He scrabbled through a cupboard, looking for his spares, but the box was empty: he was hyperventilating with stress and anxiety at the point at which he went lightheaded.

* * *

“Are you free to do a family call?” Jenny came over to Jim and smiled. “The ambulance was called by a three-year-old girl. It’s her father, we don’t know how bad he is at the moment.”

“Absolutely. Any other relatives?” He questioned. “Who’s looking after the kid?”

“Her two-year-old little brother. Dad’s the only one with them at the moment.” She explained.

“Can I get a nurse in to look over the children? They’ll probably be distressed if they’d had to call the ambulance themselves.” He leaned over and washed his hands quickly. “What bay are they coming into?”

“I’ve got eight cleared and the bed made. I’ll see if I can get a nurse from paediatrics up.” She smiled. “Thank you, Jim.”

He waited until the man came in, immediately recognising the face and smiling over at the family. “Freddie.” He said warmly, before turning for the assessment from the paramedics. On hearing how bad he was, he frowned and turned more serious, preparing a shot of steroids to relax his chest. 

“Little scratch.” Jim said as he pushed the needle into the crook of his elbow. “You’re alright, Freddie, this is going to help you breathe.”

He seemed to relax when his breathing was more under control, when his chest didn’t feel so pressingly tight. “Thank you.” He said tiredly, resting his head back against the pillows as the colour started to return to his face. “Did you- where are the children?”

“They’re in the next bay along.” Jim sat beside him and reached for a new inhaler from the drawers beside him. “You can use this if you need it in the next few hours.”

“Thank you.” Freddie echoed again. “I’m so sorry for wasting your time.”

“You’re not wasting my time. You could’ve died if you’d left it like that.” Jim rubbed his back lightly. “Can I talk to you about your children?”

The tone was the thing that told Freddie what conversation was about to start before it happened; his stomach sank. He’d been told all along that this would happen if he let them be alone. “Yes.” He replied quietly.

“We’ve noticed marks on them that would suggest physical disciplining. Do you ever smack your children, Freddie?” He asked. 

Tears welled in Freddie’s eyes and he had to take a breath of his inhaler quickly: if he lost the children, he’d be alone in that big house, and it would be all his fault for not protecting them well enough. “My husband does.” He whispered.

“The burn mark you had me treat a few weeks ago, was that really an accident?” He asked carefully.

Freddie nodded fearfully, not wanting to get himself into trouble with Paul. He was trapped, trapped between losing his children or losing his husband and he didn’t want either, wanted to magically get himself out of the situation. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I tried, I tried to keep them safe, I couldn’t-”

The realisation dawned on Jim that it might not just be the children: a man so frightened, so unwilling to speak, a thousand excuses for a thousand injuries in the past few years seemed to fit the profile of the victim perfectly. “Does he hurt you, Freddie?”

“No!” Freddie squeaked quickly, trying his best look of outrage. “No, he’s a lovely husband, he’d never lay a finger on me, he provides everything I could ever need and he’s never asked for anything in return and he’s a much better father than I am and he doesn’t make me do anything in return because he’s so selfless, I’m so lucky.” Every lie he’d ever been taught flooded from his mouth, mixed up and jumbled with fright. 

Jim didn’t keep pushing him; he assumed he had no reason to lie. “I’ll have to report your husband’s behaviour to social services, because-”

Freddie’s shaking cut him off: he was starting to hyperventilate again, looking so small and caught in the little single bed, caught between loyalty and fear. “I’m sorry-” He whispered again. “I’m so sorry, I never should have adopted them, I thought it would be different, I just wanted to help them and I made it worse-” He squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed.

“Freddie.” Jim took both his hands and squeezed. “Freddie, you’re having a panic attack, I need you to breathe for me.”

He covered his mouth and struggled through a few breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry-” He whimpered again. “I’m sorry, please don’t take them away-”

“They’re not going to be taken away.” Jim said quietly. “No one can take them away because of discipline, Freddie. All it means is that somebody can come and assess your home situation, which I’m sure will work out fine.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.” He said, repeating the words like a mantra. “I’m just so stressed at the moment.”

Jim squeezed his hand again and then let go. “Can I listen to your chest again?”

Freddie nodded, hoping and praying as he pulled the back of shirt up that he wouldn’t see anything untoward. “Do you always work the night shift?” He asked quietly.

“Wednesday to Monday nights.” Jim explained, glad that Freddie seemed to be opening up a little. He took a quick glance at the skin on his back, but didn’t see anything that concerned him: aside from Freddie’s behaviour, everything seemed normal. Jim considered momentarily referring him to mental health services, but thought better of it after serious thought; a diagnosis of anxiety would take more than a panic attack at the thought of one’s children being taken away.

“How long have you been a doctor?” Freddie was starting to establish a little bit of trust with him as a figure of authority. 

“Thirteen years. I’ve been a consultant for about six months now.” Jim sat back, enjoying having a conversation while the ward was quiet.

“What’s a consultant?” He asked again. Jim couldn’t help but notice the way that Freddie held onto one of the children’s toys that they’d left onto his bed, mindlessly petting the ears to calm himself down; in some ways, he felt much younger than his thirty-four years.

“I run the emergency department.” He smiled. “So if I had somebody come in who’d been in a car accident, and somebody who’d been shot, and someone who was very sick, I would oversee it all and make sure that everyone got the treatment they required.”

“So why are you here?” He asked quietly.

“I’ve got a man with a broken leg, a pregnant woman and a child with a cotton bud stuck in his ear. Nothing needs managing.” He chuckled. “Plus, I wanted to ask you about your children. It’s my job to fulfil safeguarding criteria.”

“Are people talking to the children?” He asked.

“I’ve got a paediatric nurse with them.” He stood up and gave Freddie a hand. “Before I let you go, do you need another inhaler?”

“Oh, no.” Freddie’s personality seemed to change in an instant: from frantic to relaxed, as though he suddenly had everything under control again. “No, thank you, it’s on the worktop at home. You can keep it for someone who really needs it.”

“Are you going to need it for the journey home?” He asked.

“No, thank you.” He echoed again. “I won’t have another attack.”

Jim nodded and held open the curtain for him. “In that case, I’ll take you to see your children.”

* * *

“I brought you a coffee.” Matthew smiled. “I know it’s been an evening.”

“Thursdays are nothing.” Jim chuckled and took it. “Thank you, though.”

“Did you get anything out of that guy about his kids?” He questioned, leaning against Jim’s desk. “The kids only said a little.”

“It’s physical disciplining. I don’t agree with it, but I can’t prosecute it. I’ll call social if the injuries get any worse.” He shrugged. “They just seem like stressed parents.”

“The kids were so- so unchildlike. They didn’t want to play or anything like that.” He sighed. “I think something’s going on.”

“I asked him about it. He said that home life is fine, he got quite offended when I suggested otherwise.” He took a swallow of his coffee and shrugged again. “I’ll put it as a note on his record. I think there might be some undiagnosed anxiety problems, those could affect the family. I’ll speak to the husband if he comes in next time.”


	3. Belt Buckle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's often not dramatic, not a stand-up argument or an act of heroism, but simply an inability to stand it any longer and a loss of hope that drives one away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can y'all tell I love a bit of assertive Jim?

Xavier glanced around the door a little nervously: he wasn’t allowed in his parent’s bedroom, but it had been a long time since his Papa had left the house and his Daddy hadn’t come out of the room yet. “Daddy?” He whispered, biting his lip.

“Oh, darling!” Freddie looked over quickly, trying to shield his son from seeing anything he didn’t need to. “I’ll be out in a second, are you okay?”

He nodded and put his thumb in his mouth. “I’m scared, Daddy.” He said quietly. “You screamed.”

Freddie sighed. “I just got a little frightened, darling, Papa was very cross with me.” He pressed down on the cut on the soft skin of his thigh, trying to stem the blood flow quickly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, he’s not cross with you.”

He came closer and whimpered when he saw the mess of Freddie’s back, closing his eyes tightly. “Daddy, the doctor said you had to go back if Papa made you poorly.” Holly said from behind him, holding onto her brother.

“I’m fine, darling.” He promised. “I just need to take a shower and then I’ll be good as new.” He tried his best to be comforting, though he knew he’d cry the whole way through the shower. “Please, just go back into your bedroom, I need to clean up.”

Tears welled in Xavier’s eyes and he threw himself at Freddie, hugging him tightly. “I hate Papa!” He shouted. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”

Freddie sighed and wrapped his arm around his son. “Me too.” He admitted, though the words weighed heavy in his chest. “I swear, one day we’ll get away from here, I promise.”

He’d never made that promise before, and he knew it could be years until he fulfilled it, but it was the only thing that gave them any hope. 

“You’re really hurt, Daddy.” Holly tried again.

Freddie swallowed and nodded. “I know, darling. Papa was- he was very horrible to me.”

“Can we go to the doctor?” She asked. “You can’t be sick.”

He knew she was thinking about last time one of his injuries had gotten infected, thinking of the antibiotics and the shaking and the way he was ostracised from the family until he got better. And deep down, he knew it was right, but he was so frightened; the idea of saying goodbye to everything he’d ever known terrified him. He had no way of providing for them, no way of making sure they’d be okay, and the idea that he’d be forced to do anything for the sake of money almost scared him more than staying.

But when he looked down at those vulnerable little faces, children reliant on him, he knew he’d never sleep again if they were hit like he was.

“I want you to go into the front bathroom.” He grabbed a bandage and wound it around his thigh quickly. “I want you to watch for me, and tell me straight away if you see Papa, okay?”

Holly nodded and took her little brother to the front of the house, crawling up onto the windowsill. Freddie, in the meantime, pulled on a heavy sweater and sweatpants, hissing at the contact against his raw and bloodied skin, and pulled a few things into a bag for him and the children, stuffed toys and clothes and a toothbrush they could share if they got desperate.

* * *

“I thought this was a minor injury, but this guy is completely fucked up.” Matthew threw his gloves in the bin beside Jim. “I can’t believe he’s walking with that much blood down his back.”

“Who is it?” He sucked on the end of his pen as he updated notes. “Stab wound?”

“Belting, I think.” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s torn bits of his skin out. Buckle side beating.”

“Fucking Christ.” He muttered. “Want me to have a look at it?”

“It’s the same guy that was in a few weeks back. The asthma and the attack at the funfair. Kids are with him again.” He shrugged. “I’m alright, but you can do safeguarding if you want. He won’t tell me why.”

Jim stood up immediately. “I’ll take over from here, Matt.” He grabbed a pair of gloves. “I can’t have a junior on that. It’s probably a domestic. Can you organise a room and two cribs for me, one of the paediatrics if you can, because I want him in for the night.” He straightened out his badge. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Matthew nodded and headed for the phone while Jim walked towards the cubicle.

“Freddie?” He asked, stepping into the room. He was momentarily taken aback at the sight of his back: he’d seen a lot in his career, but it rarely made him feel as though he could vomit. This, though, this was something else, back a mess of blood and torn skin, worse than injuries he’d seen in car crashes and stabbings, and entirely willingly inflicted. “Fucking hell.” He muttered.

“I know.” Freddie replied; he was on his own this time, no children and no husband, so they didn’t have the image forever carved into their brains. “I was just going to shower and hope for the best.”

“Does it not hurt?” Jim choked out, walking closer: he could almost feel the heat from the wounds. “Showering would be agony.”

“I’ve done it before.” Freddie suddenly couldn’t stop the words from coming: he’d kept his stubborn mouth shut for years, twenty-one years of black eyes and broken bones and torn skin, and all it had taken was for someone to ask him the question.

No one had ever been worried about him before - no one had ever asked if he’d been hit or hurt. No one had ever looked past the façade that Paul put up too well, the relaxed smile as he twisted Freddie’s arm up his back, snapped his fingers or crushed his toes to make him play along. No one had ever bothered to be worried about him before, but this man, this doctor, had seen it after only two visits. Freddie must’ve seen a thousand doctors in his time, haemorrhages to swollen blood vessels in his eye, asthma attacks, choking on his own air, carefully orchestrated overdoses and this, bloodied and bruised and broken down: no doctor had ever seen through his perfect marriage presentation before.

“Last time it got infected.” Freddie’s hands shook. “It was across my thighs, and I- I had to cut it open to clean it.”

“Who did this, Freddie?” Jim’s voice was horrified but firm. “Please talk to me.”

Freddie stayed quiet, unable to face up to the truth, and Jim leaned over him to look at his injuries more carefully. “I’m going to clean them properly and stitch them, okay?” He said quietly. “There are some older marks on here that look nasty, so I’ll clean them too.” He took Freddie’s hand for a moment and tried for a comforting smile. “I’ve got you, Freddie, I promise.”

Freddie closed his eyes as he just started out with water, knowing better than to complain about pain; complaining only ever meant more pain. Over the years, Freddie had been trained to hold his tongue too well through anything, and so a burning shame came across him when he flinched away from Jim’s fingers on his back, cleaning so carefully. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry-” He said quickly. “I’ll hold still, I promise-”

Jim wondered what the hell he’d been forced to be still for before, but he couldn’t help but fear the worst. “I understand, Freddie, it hurts like hell.” Jim said sympathetically. “I’ve seen people come out of car crashes looking better than you.”

“It was my husband.” He said quickly: the words hurt too badly to say aloud, but a strange, shameful peace came across him. At least now he didn’t have to keep up the pretence anymore, and he could always take it back.

“Did he use a belt on you?” He asked, grabbing a stitching kit to tend to one of the bigger cuts.

“Buckle side.” He said quietly. “The metal makes bigger welts and it cuts deeper.”

Jim wondered if he’d ever forget this conversation, or if it would scar its way into his brain for the rest of his life. “Why?” He asked, voice a little more broken.

“I didn’t want to have sex with him.” Freddie’s whole body coloured with shame. “So he threw me on the bed and belted me. It was- it wasn’t too bad, but he was holding my ankle and he accidentally caught his own arm and then he just kept saying that he wanted me dead and that’s when it started to hurt.”

“Did you sleep with him?” He asked, filing it all away in his mind for an incident report for the police.

“Yes.” Freddie said quietly. “I didn’t really have the energy to say no.”

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” Jim stood up and took off his gloves. “I just have to go and do something quickly.”

He vomited three times in the staff bathroom at the end of the hallway before he felt like he could stand up straight again; he shakily took a paper cup of water offered by one of the nurses. He sipped a few times, trying to avoid the eyes of the team of people around him for a second, and then met eyes with Matthew.

“Was it that bad?” Matthew asked, rubbing his shoulder.

“Fucking horrendous.” He breathed out slowly and took another mouthful of water. “I need an intervention team at a crisis meeting in the next forty minutes. Bring the fucking police.” He paused. “Get the children to have a full assessment by paediatrics, check everything, physical, sexual and emotional. I need a rape kit, and I need someone to call around the DV shelters to see if anyone’s got places.” He looked around quickly. “Understood?”

The adrenaline of a busy night was hitting, but more than anything, Jim felt frightened for the first time at work. He’d been in the middle of gangs before, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of his heart in his throat now. “If Paul Prenter comes to reception, no one gives away that his family is here. I won’t have him on my ward. He’s dangerous.”

* * *

“No shelter is going to take him.” Chelsea looked over at him, flicking through her call logs. “They’re women’s DV shelters, there aren’t any mixed ones. He’ll have to take a hotel room and apply to the council for emergency housing with withheld address.”

“Christ, okay.” He nodded. “He’s not ready to talk to police, so I’ve frozen the kit. He’s been with him for twenty-one years, it’ll take time.” He sighed. “The children?”

“No sign of sexual abuse.” Charlotte handed him the papers. “Mild to moderate physical abuse, spankings with the hand, grabbing and shaking. More severe in the burns, but that seems to be a new phenomenon. Significant emotional trauma, the daughter is very old for her age. Knows how to care for her brother.”

He nodded. “I’d expect that. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s cared for him while he’s been out or under.”

Jim stood up. “I’m going to talk to him about housing. He needs to know his options, he can’t yo-yo out of a house like that.”

Freddie lay beside his children, watching over them while they slept, eyes alive and alert to anything that disturbed the perfect darkness of the room: it was his tactic for staying safe, because even opening the door a crack would cause a beam of light across the room. He knew they wouldn’t have the room for long, and so he was determined the children should rest while they could: he was exhausted, almost delusional from lack of sleep, but his slow mind still worked fast enough to preserve his survival instinct.

“Freddie?” Jim opened the door and squinted into the darkness. “Are you asleep? I’m so sorry-”

“No-” Freddie stood up quickly, coming to the door. “No, it’s fine, I’m not asleep.”

“I just wanted to discuss your options. I assumed you wouldn’t want to be going back home, hence why you told me.”

Freddie nodded, tight-lipped and miserable, and Jim just wanted to take him in his arms and hold him tight. “For tonight, you’ll be looking at a hotel room for you and the children because I’m afraid none of our shelters have enough beds. In the morning, you should be able to speak to the local council, and they can rehome you with a withheld address so it’s not easy for you to be tracked.”

Freddie’s heavy eyes closed for a second as he thought - as nice and clean the solution was, it required money he didn’t have. “Can you take the children into local authority care?” He asked. “Temporarily?”

“We could place them in a children’s home or emergency foster care for a few nights.” Jim nodded, taken aback by the suggestion: he’d assumed Freddie would hate the idea from his response to social services being mentioned before.

Freddie rested his good arm on the doorframe, and rested his head on the muscle of his bicep. “They’ll be safe there.” He said quietly. “Yeah, do that, I’ll get them when I’m sorted.”

“What are you going to do?” Jim felt concern that didn’t usually take over him at work: he was usually good at compartmentalising work and home affections. “Where are you going?”

Freddie’s smile was wry as he looked up. “I’m going home, aren’t I?” He said quietly. 

“You can’t-” Jim reached out but forced himself to stop: he knew his professional boundaries. “Why?”

“I don’t have any money.” Freddie shrugged. “It’s lovely for you to sort a solution for me, but I can’t afford a hotel room. I can’t even afford a fucking sandwich from the vending machine.” He looked down at his hands shamefully. “I think I got caught up in this big fantasy of escaping, but it was never realistic.”

Jim had heard all the trainings on beaten women, how men would abuse and control them, but every piece of training he’d ever had was going down the drain. Every solution was melting before his eyes, and he felt suddenly guilty, as though he was forcing this man back into the mouth of hell itself.

“Here.” Freddie handed him a bag. “Take this, it’s got some of their things in. There’s a few bits of mine, but they don’t matter, they’ll help the kids sleep. Phone social services and let’s get that sorted.”

Jim held the bag as though it was one of the children itself, suddenly in shock at how willing Freddie was to put himself in the firing line to save them. All he could see was the same image running through his mind-

_ This is Freddie Bulsara, he’s thirty-four, he was found unresponsive in a house down in Kensington. GCS one, tachycardic, BP seventy over forty, airways collapsed, no visible signs of injury- _

“Stay here.” Jim said quickly. “I’ll find you something, I’m not having you split up or going back.”

* * *

“That breaks every safeguarding protocol that’s ever existed.” Chelsea said bluntly. “Jim, you could get fucking fired for that-”

“I’d rather get fucking fired than leave someone to get killed!” He shouted. “You didn’t see the fucking state of him when he came in, his back was fucking shredded and he’d been sexually assaulted and he apologised for moving when I was stitching him up! If I send him back there, he’s going to get killed, and I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“I’ll back you up.” Matthew glanced over and smiled warmly. “I think it’s the right call. We’ve seen those guys too much recently.”

“Thank you!” Jim said exasperatedly. “I’m not trying to sabotage our department, but no one else is going to help him. For all we know, he’ll go out and have sex with the first man that pays him to be able to afford that hotel room, and he’ll end up in this situation all over again. He just needs a hand up.”

Chelsea flicked the ash off her cigarette. “You’ll have to file an incident report.”

“I’d rather write a book than leave him on his own.” He replied. “I’ve got this, you have to trust me. I specialised in psych before I moved over to emergency.”

“Do it.” Dylan agreed. “What kind of hospital are we if we kill people along the way?”

* * *

“So-” Jim cracked his knuckles. “I don’t have a spare room, but I do have a sofa bed.”


	4. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie won't deny them any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why Jim lives on a houseboat for some reason I was just really feeling it

Freddie stepped uncertainly onto the little deck of the boat, still heavy with sleep, arms wrapped around himself as he shivered; the late summer mornings were misty, a little cold, but he hadn’t experienced morning sunshine for the longest time, not without heavy clothes to cover him up. He wrapped his arms around himself and sat on a little step, suddenly feeling so overwhelmed and unsure of himself, where he’d go, what he’d do next without two pennies to rub together: he’d known the feeling would come, but not that he’d experience it so acutely.

When he thought of home, he thought of a warm bed, the two cots in the bedroom next door with cozy blankets, feeding the family in the kitchen, kisses before work. He felt so selfish for turning his back on a man that had provided for him since he dropped out of school at fifteen to pursue a dream that hadn’t worked out, for putting his children through the trauma of sleeping in a different bed every night, for not at least trying to sort something for them before he just took off and left, assuming he knew best.

But when he thought of home more clearly, he thought of how the punches hurt, searing through his face, multiplied by the shame of his failure; he thought of being denied the medicines he needed, being left to choke on his own breath, being hot and cold and shaking and sweating as his body battled infections, biting down on a towel as he disinfected deep wounds, obsessively checking his own temperature as a sign for sepsis. His children might have been warm and clothed, but they weren’t safe, not when their father would threaten to throw them across the room if they cried, not when they weren’t allowed to act like children; not when he’d had to teach them a few words to express what they needed because their father would grab them and shout at them to speak. 

The rocking of the boat was gentle beneath him, and he could feel the breeze on his cheeks. His whole life had been reduced to a kitchen: he cooked, socialised and slept in that room, only allowed to venture upstairs for sex, cleaning or caring for the children: now, with a view of half the Thames, he almost couldn’t believe how beautiful the world really was.

He looked around quickly when he heard footsteps, automatically on edge, but he relaxed when he saw Jim with two mugs of tea, a few days unshaven, in a jumper and possibly the ugliest pair of shorts Freddie had ever seen-

When they met eyes, that sleepy, heavy morning gaze, Freddie almost felt like himself again.

“I made tea.” Jim offered a mug and Freddie took it gratefully, clasping it close to his chest. “How did you sleep?”

“It was okay.” He agreed in a soft voice. “Got a few hours, more than usual.”

Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm gently. “Do you want to borrow a jumper or something? The world’s always a bit colder on water.” He chuckled.

Freddie looked over at him and smiled bashfully, the first proper smile in a long time, but he shook his head. “I- I’m okay.” He promised. “I’ve never been allowed to wear short sleeves outside before.”

“Why?” Jim questioned.

“I tan very easily.” Freddie looked at the bare, bruised skin of his forearms and bit his lip. “He didn’t like my skin getting any darker.”

“I’m glad you feel more relaxed here.” Jim stood up and held out a hand. “I have a little seating area we can use instead of sitting on the steps.”

Freddie took his hand, and something like excitement rushed through him as he followed. “Why is everything in boxes?” He asked.

“I’m actually moving. I’ve got the day off today, so I was going to move some of my things.” Freddie stumbled a little as a rush of wind made the boat rock; Jim caught him immediately with an arm around his waist and smiled. “You get used to it.”

“That’s a shame.” Freddie wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, but Jim made him feel easy somehow. “I think I like the boat.”

“Oh, I’m moving to another boat.” Jim grinned. “Just a better one. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a proper family house on water. It’s like moving from a bachelor pad to a two-up-two-down.”

Freddie curled up on the little outside armchair and looked over at him with a smile. “Are you moving in with your girlfriend, then?”

Jim’s cheeks coloured and he smiled bashfully. “No.” He said shyly. “No, I- I’m actually gay. I don’t really tell many people.”

Freddie’s face seemed to light up instantly. “I’ve never- I’ve never met someone like me.” He said shyly. “Except my husband, that’s- that’s one of the reasons I stayed.”

Jim grinned at his smile. “You’re definitely not the only one.” He chuckled. “Welcome to London.”

Freddie took a long swallow of his tea, relaxing into the armchair behind him. “Thank you so much for letting me stay the night.” He said shyly.

“It’s no problem.” He promised. “I wasn’t about to let you go back when you were so brave to tell me what was happening.”

“Daddy?” Xavier had followed the sound of their voices to where Freddie was sat, and he seemed to relax when he saw that he was calm and smiling. 

“Hello, darling.” Freddie held his good arm out for his son and helped him up onto the armchair with him. “Are you okay?” He asked softly.

Xavier nodded drowsily and tucked himself up against Freddie’s chest: the rocking of the boat reminded him of how Freddie had rocked him to sleep as a baby. “Love you.” He murmured.

Freddie took a blanket from the chair and swaddled his son in it, keeping him warm and close. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You know-” Jim smiled at the boys in front of him. “I’ve got two spare rooms in the new boat, and I’d like it if you came and stayed with me for a little while.”

Freddie looked up quicker than anything, a look of complete shock across his face. “Do you mean that?”

“I really do. It’s a big boat, I’ll be awfully lonely on my own.” He paused for a moment. “You don’t have to come, of course, it’s your choice.”

“No, I’d love to.” Freddie grinned, big and unashamed and beautiful, a look that Jim wanted to see every day for the rest of his life. “I would, I would, I really would. I’d love that.”

* * *

Freddie’s toes met soft carpet: his bed was new, and the furniture in his bedroom was new, and the whole room smelled like the salt of the water. The boat rocked lightly in the water, unsteadying him momentarily as he stood up: this chest tightness always followed a nightmare, but this time he was frightened. He’d always managed to find his inhaler in a pocket of Paul’s after he’d drunk himself to sleep, but this time, he was helpless without one.

He put the kettle on the hob and got the water boiling quickly, hoping that a hot drink might relax his chest until he could get his hands on another one. He covered his mouth as he coughed, cursing the pain as he tried to find a mug in one of the boxes, simultaneously trying not to wake the family around him-

“Freddie?” Jim yawned as he came into the kitchen. “Darling, are you okay?”

If he was in any right state of mind, he would’ve blushed at the pet name, but all he could think of was his fear of being without his inhaler. He just shook his head, not trusting himself to speak coherently: it suddenly clicked for Jim when he heard the wheeze of his breath. 

“Wait-” Jim walked quickly back into his bedroom, rummaging through his work bag, finding one of the inhalers he’d sequestered away just in case. “Here you go.”

He shook it quickly and took a puff; it took six before his chest finally eased and he came back to himself, recognising that he was sat on the floor against the counters with Jim’s arm around his shoulders. “Thank you.” He said softly, going to hand it back to him.

“Keep it.” Jim said softly. “You need it more than me.”

Freddie paused and nodded. “He used to give it to me when he thought I needed it.” He held it in the palm of his hand, relishing the first chance he’d had to look after himself properly. “Which wasn’t a lot, really.”

“How often do you have attacks like that?” He asked softly, rubbing Freddie’s back. “Do you have a brown one too?”

“Four or five times a week.” He said softly. “I don’t know what a brown one is.”

“We call it the preventer.” He explained. “Generally you use it in the morning and the evening, just like your blue one, but it helps you control it better.” He quickly stood up and went and got it from his bag. “You can give it a go, tell me if anything feels wrong.”

“Why do you have these?” He asked. “Are you asthmatic too?”

“I grabbed a handful when we left resus.” He chuckled. “I figured you might not have one, or you might need a new one.”

Freddie threw his arms around Jim and hugged him tightly. “Thank you so much.” He said shyly, tucking his face against Jim’s neck. “I can’t believe how nice you are.”

Jim chuckled. “Sometimes we all need a helping hand.” He said softly, running his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “What triggered you, darling?”

This time, Freddie’s cheeks did flush. “I had a nightmare.” He said shyly. “It just got my stress levels right up, it happens all the time.”

Jim pulled him in close. “Can I help you sleep any easier?” He asked.

“I- I don’t know.” He said shyly. “Like what?”

“Do you like to share a bed?” Jim felt the way Freddie relaxed in his arms and smiled. “Or I could heat your room better, or we could set up a bed for you in the children’s room, whatever you’d like.”

“I can’t make you share a bed with me.” Freddie shook his head, his cheeks burning. 

“You wouldn’t be making me. It’s my offer.” He chuckled. “I like to share beds, but I’m awfully cuddly.”

To Freddie, the idea sounded like heaven, but he was still a little shy. “Are you sure?” He asked again.

“I’m sure.” Jim smiled and took his hand, helping him to stand up. “You must be exhausted.”

“You don’t- Is there anything you want me to do?” Freddie asked, following him. “Do you want me to fall asleep after you, or wake you up at a certain time, or whatever? 

“What?” Jim yawned, sitting on the bed. “No, darling, of course not.”

“Sure?” Freddie checked again. “He-” He started, and then stopped himself. He wasn’t in the past anymore.

“What, darling?” Jim lay down and pulled back the blanket for Freddie, encouraging him to lie down. When he finally relaxed back into the soft pillows, he smiled.

“He used to wake me up throughout the night. I had- I had all these rules, I had to get things done at night like the laundry and the ironing, I couldn’t sleep for more than two hours at a time, I had to sleep after him. If he stayed up until four, I had to stay up until five.” It was starting to feel like a relief, getting little things off his chest. 

Jim rested a hand on his arm and smiled. “You’re safe here.” He promised. “You can be yourself, you don’t have to worry about anything. There are no rules.”

* * *

When Freddie woke up in the middle of the night, he was wrapped in Jim’s arms, tight and safe and warm against his chest, and he somehow felt as though they’d been doing this for years.

* * *

_ Good morning! _

The first thing Freddie noticed was that Jim’s handwriting was truly atrocious, and the thought brought a smile to his face: this was a world where everyone was human, and he didn’t have to be perfect. 

_ I’m sorry for not seeing you this morning, but I figured you wouldn’t want to be woken up at five - you looked so peaceful! My shift today is six until two, so I hopefully should be home at two thirty, provided they don’t need me to work overtime. I’ve left you some money and a set of keys by the front door so that you can go out and buy anything that you and the kids need, because I know you didn’t have much chance to pack - it should be enough to cover some toys and some home comforts, too. _

_ I’ll see you later - I’m missing you already! _

Freddie held the piece of paper close and smiled to himself. He was hit by a sense of overwhelming freedom, knowing he could take the children and buy them some new clothes, a stuffed animal each, replace the shampoo that Holly loved. He could buy them a nightlight for their bedroom and start to make their room feel a little bit more like home.

He glanced down at himself, wearing borrowed boxers around the house, and thought he could do with some new clothes as well. 

He read the note again, and noticed the last line on the bottom-

_ P.S- remember your brown inhaler! _

He laughed to himself, an old and fragile sound, and went into his bedroom again, pulling on a t-shirt and a borrowed pair of jeans. He brushed his teeth, and looked at the inhaler on the sink before trying it. He didn’t know what he was expecting, some marked difference, but it felt the same as his blue one.

He opened the children’s bedroom door and looked over them in the lamplight; Xavier slept soundly in his cot, curled around a bear wearing a t-shirt of Freddie’s, while Holly lay awake in hers, smiling as soon as she saw her father. “Good morning, sweetness.” Freddie whispered, leaning over to pick her up with his good arm. “Are you hungry?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded. “Yes, Daddy.” She said sweetly. 

“What do you think we should have?” Freddie asked, sitting her on his hip. “Anything you want.”

Her smile was incredulous and shy: she never usually got to choose because Paul would manage every part of their life. “Pancakes?” She asked hopefully.

“Thin or thick?” Freddie questioned, sitting her on the kitchen side and looking through Jim’s fridge, relieved to see he’d just recently restocked it all. 

“Big ones.” Her smile widened as she giggled. 

Freddie loved the sound of her laughter - she was usually so quiet, so scared of everything, and now she was being a child again. “Shall we make rainbow pancakes?” He asked her. “Jim’s got lots and lots of food colouring.” 

She nodded eagerly, looking at him quickly when there was a knock at the door. “Stay here, darling.” He said quickly. “Don’t touch anything until I’m back, please.”

He went up to the door and reached for the keys, immediately frightened of what might be on the other side, social services or the police or worst of all, Paul. His fingers shook as he twisted the key, holding his breath until the door was open.

“Hi!” There was a young woman on the other side, and Freddie smiled warily. “I’m Sam, I live on the boat next door. You guys have just moved in, haven’t you?”

Freddie started to relax. “Yeah.” He said shyly. 

“I brought these.” She handed over a plate to him, just lightly warm. “I bake way too much, I’ll always be bringing things over. I thought you might like some chocolate chip biscuits.” She grinned. “How many of you are there?”

Freddie paused, stumbling over his words momentarily, before he straightened himself out. “There’s four.” He smiled. “Me and my housemate, and my two kids.”

“You’ve got kids?” She said excitedly. “Me too! How old are yours?”

“Daddy?” Holly asked from behind him. 

Freddie picked her up with a smile and went back to the door, holding her on his hip. “This is Holly, she’s three. I have Xavier too, he’s two, but he’s still asleep right now.”

Holly smiled shyly and Sam grinned back at her. “I have Lucy who’s four, and Romeo who’s three. You should bring them over sometimes, they can make friends.”

“How does that sound?” Freddie asked Holly, smoothing her messy hair back. “Would you like to go and play with another little girl?”

She nodded keenly: she’d never been allowed friends before. “What can we play?”

“Anything you’d like.” Freddie smiled. “What kind of games does Lucy like to play?” He asked Sam.

“Lucy loves colouring, and she likes to play princesses and schools. She loves going to the park and going on the swings and the slide.” Sam told her. “Do you like the slide?”

She nodded, grinning up at Freddie. “I like the trampoline!” She said excitedly. “And I like to dance like Daddy.”

“Is that your job?” Sam asked curiously. “Are you a dancer?”

“I don’t have a job at the moment, not with the kids being so young.” It felt to learn to reconnect with people, teaching himself that he could do it - he’d been isolated for too many years. “Dancing is just a hobby of mine.”

She looked him over quickly. “Contemporary?” She asked. “Tap?”

“Ballet.” Freddie said bashfully. “It’s a nice way to stay fit.”

“Ballet.” She repeated. “That’s amazing. I’ll have to come and see you some time.” She chuckled. “Listen, I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”

* * *

Freddie was braiding Holly’s hair when Jim came home, curled up on the sofa with both children. He was happy to see Holly in a new dress, clean tights and new shoes, hair tied up with ribbons; Xavier was wearing a little shirt and a pair of jeans, his hair neatly trimmed; Freddie himself was wearing a tank top and a pair of leather trousers, bare toes lost in the plush lounge carpet. “My, my.” Jim stood in the doorway and smiled at them. “Don’t you all look wonderful?”

Freddie finished off the second braid with a red ribbon and smiled, standing up. “Thank you for treating us.” He said softly. “Holly loves her new dress.”

Jim hugged him quickly. “I’m glad you used the money. You look much happier.”

“It’s a long time since I went out of my way to treat myself.” He glanced down at himself and grinned. “We were thinking that we might go to the funfair this afternoon.”

“Did you go a few weeks ago?” He asked. 

Freddie shook his head. “No, it was all a lie.” He said quietly. “We wondered if you wanted to come with us?”

Jim looked at the family in front of him, two children looking back at him with such hopeful eyes, and he couldn’t even think of saying no. “I’d love to.” He smiled. “Have you ever been to a funfair before?”

Holly shook her head excitedly. “But Daddy says there’s fishes and teacups and pink candyfloss!”

Freddie picked up Xavier as Holly went over to Jim, happily being picked up by him. “Daddy and I can win you a fish.” He grinned. “Isn’t that right, Daddy?”

Freddie’s blush was demure and he looked over at Jim with a smile on his face. “It sure is.”

* * *

“Hey!” Freddie paid quickly for a stick of candyfloss and lifted up Holly so that she could see it being made. “Look at this, darling!” He said excitedly. 

She gasped, face being lit up by multi-coloured lights, pinks and reds and blues and greens. “Daddy, it’s pink!”

Xavier was on Jim’s shoulders, watching in raptures of excitement. “Me too!” He squeaked, and Freddie grinned up at him.

“You can both try it.” He promised. “It’s very tasty.”

Jim wrapped his arm around Freddie’s waist almost on instinct: he’d never been part of a family like this before, and he was almost lost in the fantasy of a boyfriend, children, people to love and care for. Freddie glanced over at him, but he smiled regardless, curled up to his side: he wanted to learn to love again, to trust again. 

Freddie took the candyfloss stick and pulled off two little pieces, giving one to each child: Holly’s face lit up with childhood magic. “It tastes pink!” She said excitedly. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” He grinned. “Do you want some, darling?” He asked Jim.

Jim took a piece from between Freddie’s fingers and felt it dissolve in his mouth; he laughed to himself at how Freddie had immediately taken to the smallest sign of affection and was gifting it back tenfold. “Thank you.” He said, lightly pecking Freddie’s cheek in thanks. “Do you think we should win the children some stuffed toys on the hook-a-duck?”

“I haven’t done this since I was at least thirteen.” Freddie grinned. “Which one would you like, Holly?”

She was pulling off more and more candyfloss, lips and fingers sticky with sugar and joy. In the space of a few short days, her life had been transformed: she’d gone from having to care for her brother and her father to being able to have fun, able to love and laugh and get messy and know that Freddie would just pop her back in the bath later on. “Rubber duck!” She pointed to the duck that was wearing a tiara, something she’d never been allowed at home because it was too childish. “Please, Daddy?”

“I think we should let Jim go first.” Freddie grinned. “Why don’t you ask him nicely?”

“Please, Pop?” She asked; both men paused at the use of the nickname. “Can I have the rubber duck?”

Jim leaned over and kissed her forehead. “The tiara duck or the pink duck?” He asked. 

Holly was caught between the excitement of choosing one over the other; her eyes darted between the two before she made the decision. “Tiara duck.” She grinned. “Please.”

Jim grabbed a pole and steadied it, trying his best to choose one of the more difficult ducks to get, spurred on by Xavier’s little tugs on either side of his hair. He leaned forward and hooked the duck, almost strangely proud of himself when Holly started cheering, giggling when she got splashed by the duck landing back in the fountain.

“I heard a little someone wanted a tiara duck?” The girl behind the stall smiled at the little girl on Freddie’s hip. “You can have my princess duck-” She got down the one that Holly had been pointing at. “Or you can have my extra-special princess duck.” She showed her another one, pink and with a tiara - Holly’s face lit up. 

“Please!” She squeaked.

“You have such a polite little girl.” The girl smiled and handed over the box. “Here you go. Can I tempt you with another round for something for the little boy?”

“What do you think, Xavier?” Jim helped him down onto his hip. “Do you like anything on here?”

He pointed at the duck light hanging above the stall, a pretty nightlight that he wanted for his bedroom, and Freddie smiled. “What’s the magic word, baby?”

“Please?” He smiled around his thumb at Freddie’s happy face.

Holly’s little hand helped him to steady the pole against his good arm, and his cheeks glowed with pride at the smiles he had managed to put on both the children’s faces. Xavier clutched tight to the nightlight for the rest of the evening, shaking it to make it glow whenever he could; Jim watched as the soft yellow light brought out the colour on both of their faces, the first few expressions of joy they’d shared in a long time.

* * *

Jim stood beside Freddie, keeping an arm around his waist as they watched the children on one of the rides; he was relieved to see him quickly adapting to using his inhaler whenever he needed it, not waiting until it got too difficult to breathe. “Everything okay?” He checked, brushing Freddie’s hair back from his cheek. 

“It’s a little smoky.” He murmured. “I don’t want it to get bad. I’m a bit out of breath from chasing them around the house of fun.”

Jim rubbed his hand over Freddie’s waist. “I’m glad you remembered to bring it.”

“It’s nice to be in control of it.” He admitted. “The only time I’ve ever been allowed to control it is when I’m dancing, because otherwise I’d just keel over.”

“You dance?” Jim asked curiously. “I thought you said you didn’t work?”

“I don’t.” He said softly. “It’s just a hobby, it’s a way to keep myself healthy.”

“When do you dance? What do you do?” He was so excited to learn more.

“Three mornings a week.” He smiled shyly. “I’m going to set the kids up at nursery now I’m in charge of them, and then I can go back. I do ballet.”

“Can you go right up on your toes?” He asked, sounding almost childlike.

“Not really.” He said bashfully. “I never really got enough training, because I was forced to quit full-time training before I got married. I could do it back then, but I haven’t tried in a long while.”

“I can’t believe you’re just casually a ballet dancer and you didn’t even tell me.” Jim laughed. “Can I come and see you dance sometime?”

Freddie’s cheeks flushed with delight. “If you want to.” He said quietly. “I’m sure the children would like to come, too.”

“You know, if you want to take it up full-time again, I wouldn’t mind that at all.” Jim said with a smile. “Your choice, of course, but I thought it was worth mentioning.”

“Really?” Freddie asked. “I mean, I could, but I don’t want to upset you or anything.”

“I wouldn’t be upset at all. I’d be very proud of you.” Jim smiled. “And then you could start to feel more like you were able to provide for the children.”

“That’s a lovely idea.” He smiled shyly.

“Daddy!” Holly giggled as she ran back to them. “Daddy, Pop, I went up high, did you see me?”

“Yes, darling!” Jim grinned and picked her up. “We were very, very impressed, Daddy, weren’t we?”

Freddie smiled as he watched his daughter with Jim, and a sudden strike hit him, a sudden desire that this man might be the man he wanted to live with and love for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ballet Freddie makes a return (sorry kids)! Interestingly, this is the only fic where I'm ahead of myself (writing chapter 4 and publishing chapter 3 on the same day etc.) because I have a lot of inspiration for it.


	5. Scrubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All it takes is realising what he's been gifted.

Wednesday was the only day of the week that he would wear a suit to work: his weekly head of department meeting was a bore, but it still held some of the newfound pride of being associated with such a high standing in the hospital. Freddie had tied the knot in his tie for him that morning when he’d failed on his fourth attempt; he’d been using clip-on ties for as long as he could, but Freddie had insisted on a double Windsor knot if he was going to be a true professional. 

One of the good things about scrubs, he mused, was the lack of excess fabric: suits had pockets and collars with extra buttons, neatly ironed and turned down. They also had lapels which, in hindsight, were incredibly easy to grab a hold of.

“What have you done with him?” Paul’s knuckles were white with the grip he had on the front of Jim’s blazer, almost as pale as the sickly white of his clammy skin; spit flecked his lips and Jim could smell the characteristic acrid-cider smell of the alcoholic that wandered into his department every Saturday night.

“I’d suggest that you get your fucking hands off of me.” Jim said bluntly: a sick part of him wanted to avenge Freddie, to see what the fucker would look like wiping blood from his nose, but the other part of him was reminded that while he wasn’t on shift, he was still in the hospital, still under scrutiny.

Paul shook him as though he was one of those tiny children, slamming him against the tray-table that was behind them and Jim couldn’t help it if his fingers curled into a fist, if he punched him as hard as he could in the face.

He’d never expected to be one of those people brawling in the emergency department, but when Paul’s knee went for his crotch, Jim’s bar fight instincts came back: he headbutted him in the chin, knocking him backwards, and the world went red, red behind his eyes as thumbs pushed at them, sending excruciating pain through his head, and red over his fists as he punched and ripped and tore at the parts of his body that would bleed fast and hurt most. “You are never-” He kneeled on his chest and punched him again, sickeningly fascinated by the bloodstains on his hands. “Never going near that fucking family, those fucking children, ever again, you fucking madman-” He spat. “You fucking disgust me.”

He fell backwards when he got a knee to the balls, momentarily unguarded, giving Paul enough time to reenact everything he’d ever done to hurt Freddie. It took one slash of the razor blade, nicking the skin through the torn material of his work shirt, before Jim worked up the energy to hit him hard enough to daze him, once, twice, three times, for him to twist his arm up his back to get to the blade, enough to pull harshly at his shoulder-

And if the rest of the department didn’t intervene for a few moments as he kicked his head, then no one would ever speak out about it.

He let himself be pulled back and spat blood from his mouth; his face ached with bruises, his stomach had been slashed by the blade, and he felt as though he could keel over with the pain radiating from his crotch.

Maybe it was something close to what Freddie had experienced every day for over twenty years.

“That was something.” Matthew put a sterile cloth to his stomach immediately and sat him back on one of the stools. “Don’t you dare faint on me.”

“Not going to.” Jim said, suddenly exhausted, and he began to understand why Freddie would do anything he was asked by Paul. Between never having more than a few hours’ sleep, the exhaustion of being beaten and punched, he was desperate to do anything for a chance to close his eyes, block the rest of the world out for just a moment. “God, I feel sick-”

“I’ve got you.” Matthew wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him stand, getting him into the privacy of a cubicle. “It was the shock, right?”

“How the hell did he even get in here?” Jim asked, laying back on the bed as Matthew tended to the cuts on his face. “Do we have to keep him here for treatment?”

“No, they’ll move him to the ECR station and he can be seen by one of the on-site nurses. He’s only broken his nose.” He said calmly as he sponged blood off his chin.

“That’s a shame.” Jim muttered, wincing as the pad dragged across the cut on his forehead. “Wish I’d done better.”

“I think you’ve put a bigger dent in his ego than anything else.” He grinned. “He definitely lost that one. He’s probably not used to it.”

“He’s used to behaving like a fucking child and throwing a tantrum until he gets his way. As if I’d let him know if Freddie was in a fucking shelter?” He looked down at his hands; he was trembling with rage. “I need to calm down.”

“We won’t report you.” Matthew promised and grabbed a stitching kit. “It was self-defence. He can go fuck himself.”

“Thanks.” He breathed out slowly. “I don’t really know what came over me.”

“You know all the shit that Freddie’s been through. It’s only natural you’re angry.” Matthew wheeled over a stool and sat back to look at the wound on his stomach. “You were in psych, after all.”

“I looked through his notes.” Jim paused for a moment. “Is that weird? I thought I recognised him from somewhere, that I hadn’t seen him for the first time when he came in the night he was ‘attacked’.” His use of bunny ears made them both smile, but the truth weighed heavy on his heart. “When I was first in psych, I came down to cover the mental health specialist shift on emergency, and I had to see him. It was like eight years ago.”

“I was still doing my O-levels eight years ago.” Matthew chuckled. “What did you see him for?”

“He slit his wrists in the bath. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time, I just assumed he was a bit unhinged and referred him to psych, but he never went to the appointment. He must’ve been so fucking unhappy.” He bit his lip. “I can’t help but think about what would’ve been different if I’d stepped in then and got him out of there. I feel- guilty, I guess, for not noticing.”

Matthew rested a hand on his shoulder. “Is that why you were so angry?”

“I don’t know.” Jim admitted. “He’s just such a- such a fucking bastard, and no one cared enough to ever question if there was anything wrong. He didn’t have to go through all that shit.”

“That’s not your fault, Jim. You were practically newly qualified, we hadn’t had all the domestic violence training back then. You can’t stop signs of things that were never taught to you.” Matthew said soothingly.

“But it’s not that simple, is it? It’s one question,  _ are you happy with your home life? _ and he could’ve gotten out without any of this shit.” He sighed. “His asthma looks like a product of the violence, too. He’s only been diagnosed in the last eight years, and it’s gotten worse at every review, but there’s been no particular change in environmental factors.”

“What’s the guarantee that he would’ve told you? He stayed for another eight years.” He squeezed his arm lightly. “He had the chance to tell you on the funfair night, but he didn’t. He had to hit breaking point to do that.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Jim rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know why I’m suddenly so invested. I seem to have forgotten every bit of professional standards training I’ve ever had.”

“I think we both know why you’re so invested.” Matthew said quietly. “It’s alright, Jim, you don’t have to keep it secret.”

“I just- I didn’t mean to, I don’t want people to think I’m some fucking monster that preys on vulnerable men in shit situations.” He swallowed hard. “His daughter calls me Pop.”

“So long as it’s a consenting relationship, no one can say shit.” Matthew went back to stitching his stomach. 

“How do I know it’s a consenting relationship? How do I know that he has any idea of consent left when he’s been taught that saying no leads to a beating?” Jim bit one of his nails. “He might just be saying all the right things because he thinks I’ll kick him out if he says no.”

“Then you need to have that conversation with him.” Matthew said simply. “Don’t try and be subtle with him. He’s forgotten what it’s like.”

“I hate how much sense you talk for an F1.” Jim finally cracked a smile and lay back. “God, what a shift?”

“Two deaths and getting beaten the shit out of?” Matthew looked up and grinned. “It’s probably not your finest hour.”

* * *

“On Thursday-” Jim could hear Freddie before he reached the door: his voice was gentle and playful as he sat with his little family on a picnic blanket on the front deck of the boat, Holly under his arm. “He ate through four strawberries, but he was still hungry!”

Xavier giggled as he toddled back towards Freddie, holding a pebble tightly in his hand; they’d been collecting some from the bank of the Thames by the boat to make pictures with. “Strawb!” He repeated, beaming at Freddie’s smile.

“I’m hungry too!” Holly giggled as Freddie pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“As soon as your Pop’s home, darling, you can eat as much as you’d like. I’ve made your favourite.” Freddie’s cheeks were warm with happiness at finally getting to spend time with his little ones in the way he’d always wanted to: he could leave some dishes undone for the sake of reading them a story, something he’d never gotten to do before. “What do you think the caterpillar ate on Friday?” He asked, showing them the picture.

“Orange!” She grinned. “He likes oranges!”

“And how many does he eat?” He asked, tracing each picture with her, both fingers bumping together. “Can you remember how we count, darling? What do we start with?”

“One!” She said triumphantly. “One, two, nine, five, six!”

Freddie grinned and kissed the top of her head again. “You’re so close!” He said excitedly. “But you’re missing a number after two. It sounds like when your Pop says-”

“Tree?” Jim leaned against the railing of the boat and grinned. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Three!” Holly squealed and ran over to Jim, throwing her little arms around his neck when he crouched down to hug her. As far as she was concerned, Jim was more of her father than Paul had ever been: she’d been taught to love her Papa, but she loved her Pop intuitively. “Poppa!”

Jim hugged her tightly, both arms around her little waist, kissing the top of her head lightly. The most miraculous thing, he considered, was how open children were to loving and trusting people that treated them right: he felt so lucky to be given even a tiny portion of her affection. “I missed you, little one!” He said excitedly. “Have you had a good day?”

She nodded excitedly. “We been to the park!” She told him. “Daddy pushed me on the swings and Bubba got stuck on the slide!”

Freddie was sure, at this point, that Holly could pronounce the name Xavier, but there was something endearing about how religiously she stuck to calling him Bubba, her name from babyhood, looking down at the bundle of blankets and tripping over syllables. “Xavier was spooked at how high it was so he went down on Holly’s knee.” He clarified, grinning to himself. “We had a lovely day.”

Jim leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, chaste enough to be considered friendly affection, and smiled. “I’m glad!” He grinned. 

* * *

“You’ve been beaten the shit out of.” Freddie cupped Jim’s cheek as they sat together in the lounge, long after bedtime. “What happened to you?”

“It’s a long story. I’m surprised it didn’t scare the kids.” He chuckled and swallowed a mouthful of tea.

“We’ve got a long time.” Freddie persisted and sat back amongst the cushions. “You have to remember that I’ve probably looked like you about eighty-nine percent of the time I’ve had the kids.”

Jim almost felt a little shocked at how open and candid Freddie was being: he’d expected shyness, not this brash insistence at getting everything off his chest as soon as possible. “I got a visit from one of our favourite people at the emergency department today.” He pressed a hand to the sore spot on his jaw. “He looks worse than I do at the moment.”

Freddie gasped and sat up again quickly. “Oh my God, darling, I’m so sorry-” He said so earnestly, looking almost frightened. “I never meant for you to get dragged into all of this.”

“Hey-” Jim’s hand was soft as it rested lightly on top of Freddie’s. “You don’t have to be sorry for his behaviour. He did us a favour, he’ll at least get himself in prison for a few months for assaulting a doctor.”

Freddie nodded shyly. “Where did he hurt you?”

“Face mainly, but he cut my stomach as well.” He took another swallow of his tea and then smiled wryly. “And I’ll probably have bruises on my balls for weeks.”

“Have you ever tried arnica?” Freddie questioned. “I mean, I know you’re a doctor and you’ve probably got a thousand different tablets, but it makes bruising less obvious. It’s nice and cooling on your skin.”

Jim smiled. “You know, I don’t know much about cosmetic medicine. I can patch someone up, but I’m not usually the one to make them look pretty.”

“It’s not exactly medicine.” Freddie stood up and went to his bag, finding a little jar of ointment. “Here, let me.”

Jim let Freddie’s gentle fingers apply the gel on the worst of his bruises, smiling to himself at how carefully Freddie treated him. “Where did you learn about this?”

“My mother.” Freddie’s heart ached momentarily; he hadn’t seen his family in almost a decade. “I started dating Paul when I was thirteen, and she thought the bruises I had were just the usual childhood bumps and scrapes, so she’d put this on them to make them go away.”

Jim caught his hand gently and held it in both of his. “Can we- can we talk about the future? Your future?”

Freddie’s cheeks coloured. “What kind of thing, darling?” He asked quietly. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed-” Jim smiled shyly. “But I think I might be harbouring a crush on you.”

Freddie paused uncertainly for a moment: he wasn’t sure whether to be happy or scared, awash with a thousand feelings, everything from a giddy childlike joy from the knowledge that someone else had the capacity to love him to an abject fear of what could happen. “I-” Freddie murmured, not sure of what to say.

“Before you-” Jim knelt beside him and took his hand. “Before you say anything, darling, just know that you can continue living here no matter what.” His cheeks started to colour with shyness. “I don’t mind if you say no, I won’t be angry, I’ll still be here for you and the kids. If you- if you want to say yes, then know that I promise I will never hurt you.” He squeezed his hand. “And I’ll never expect you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to spend your days cooking and cleaning for me, I don’t want you to be my servant.”

“I don’t know what I want.” Freddie admitted shyly, glancing down at his hands. “What are you like as a boyfriend?”

“Am I allowed to say that I don’t know?” Jim tucked one leg under the other. “I’ve never had a proper long-term boyfriend before. People generally don’t like the fact that I work shifts and don’t want to go out that much.” He paused and looked away. “Because I have bad days, I have days like today where people die on the ward and I- I feel so empty, I don’t know. I don’t feel like doing much, I don’t feel like clubbing or having sex or drinking, I just want to eat dinner and curl up for a while and then sleep.”

“Did that happen today?” Freddie’s voice softened automatically.

“Twice.” He said quietly. “A four-year-old little girl with newly diagnosed lymphoblastic leukaemia and a fifty-year-old man who had a heart attack.”

Freddie wrapped his arms around Jim and he suddenly felt as though he understood more acutely the type of person he really was. “I think it got me because she looked like Holly.” Jim admitted. “And I realised how fucking lucky I am to have all of you in my life right now, because you’ve given me something to focus on that isn’t just my work. Like- like when we went to the funfair the other night, my shift had been horrible and stressful and I hadn’t even managed to get a lunch break, and I forgot all of what had happened because I was having so much fun and the kids were so happy.”

“We can give it a go.” Freddie cupped his cheek. “I- I don’t promise that you’ll want me for very long, though.”

“I’ll never keep you here.” Jim promised him. “You can leave whenever you want to, you can stay until you’ve got a place to go to and I’ll help you move out.”

Jim pulled him into a hug and Freddie rested against him. “I hope it does work out.” Freddie said in a small voice. “I just- I- I don’t know if I can live on my own. I’m so scared of everything.”

“You don’t have to.” Jim leaned in and pressed a very soft kiss to his forehead. “We can just try.”


	6. Avi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's so much stronger than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to tackle this from an alternate perspective than the way I chose to for Fluorescent - I hope Freddie's behaviour doesn't seem out of character, but I'm trying to show the other side, the side with more perspective and the implication that children can have on altering a person's understanding of their situation. This doesn't mean there isn't also an emotional, frightened, panicking side to him too, but just that he also has the ability to rationalise it - hope that's easy enough to get from this!

His fingers trembled as he dialled the number, the only number he could remember for his family; he sat in the hallway by the phone, watching the gentle waves lapping at the side of the boat and using the now-familiar rocking to calm himself. He’d wanted to dial this number for ten years, just to know if they were still there, still near to him, if they’d even want to speak to him, but he’d never been allowed before.

Now, with the children at nursery and Jim at work, there was no reason he couldn’t.

“Hello?” A deeply masculine voice answered, and Freddie paused for a second, overwhelmed by the familiarity than had long since become unfamiliar; he stammered uncertainly, forcing another word from the mouth of the recipient. “Hello, Bomi Bulsara speaking.”

“I- Hello.” Freddie replied unsurely. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“I’m not interested in buying anything, I’m afraid.” The voice was bored and Freddie quickly perked up.

“No, it’s not that, I- I-” He paused. “Dad? It’s me, it’s Freddie, Farrokh.”

He heard a crash on the end of the phone that sounded like something breaking and there was suddenly a cacophony of voices on the other end. “Freddie?” Kash’s voice was loudest and Freddie felt like crying with happiness. “Freddie, Freddie, is that you?”

“Kash!” He suddenly sounded so childlike, so excited. “Kash, it’s me!”

“Freddie!” She echoed. “Freddie, where are you, are you okay? Are you safe?”

It had never occurred to him that after ten years of radio silence, they would be concerned for him. “I’m okay.” He replied, tucking his hair back from his face. “I’m okay, I’m safe.”

“Freddie-” Jer’s voice hadn’t changed one bit, her accent still miles thick. “Freddie, oh darling, where are you?”

“I’m living in Kensington.” He replied. “On a houseboat.”

He could hear the clatter of keys in a bowl and he was delighted by how excited they were to find out he was close. “What number is it?” Bomi asked him.

“They don’t exactly have numbers.” He said shyly. “It’s blue and white and it’s got a silver plaque with J. Hutton next to the front door.”

“We’ll be about an hour.” Jer said excitedly. 

Freddie looked around the house quickly, but he’d spent the morning cleaning: he wondered if he’d ever manage to get the anxiety out of his system at the idea of not having the home spotless when Jim got home. He pulled on his shoes and laced them; the children were on a half-day at nursery, and he wanted to show off to his family that he’d managed to look after a little family of his own. He knew that Jim was due home in half an hour, and wondered if he’d be angry at Freddie inviting visitors over, but he’d promised that it was his home too.

* * *

“I saved someone’s life today.” Jim came bounding through the door with a flushed glow of pride on his cheeks. “I mean, I save lives pretty often, but today I was on CPR and I managed to stabilise a guy’s heartbeat and his little son was so happy that he got to see his father even though he was very poorly-”

Freddie cupped his cheek, hesitating for a moment before he very gently pressed his lips to Jim’s. The kiss was warm, soft, slow, Jim’s hands moulding to the curve of his body so naturally, everything Freddie could ever dream of in a first kiss together; he stood up on his toes to chase his lips even as he pulled back a little. “Not that it’s not a lovely surprise, but what’s gotten you in such a good mood?” Jim asked fondly.

“I think I love you.” Freddie said softly. “I thought- I thought if I kissed you, and it felt good, then I’d know.”

“Did it feel good?” Jim’s thumb traced over his jawbone and he smiled.

“Really good.” Freddie smiled crookedly. “I’m proud of you, darling, also.”

Jim pressed their lips together again, sighing happily into it when Freddie wrapped his arms around his neck, relishing in the body against his own. “I love coming home to you.” He said softly. “I love you. How has your day been?”

“I got back in contact with my family.” Freddie said shyly. “They’re coming over to see me, so long as that’s okay?”

“I’d love to meet them.” He smiled. “Are the kids home?”

“Xavier’s having an afternoon nap. I can’t say I blame him.” Freddie laughed as Jim kissed his cheek and they wandered into the kitchen together. “Holly’s cuddled up on the sofa, she just wanted a little bit of quiet time. She was very excited when we were walking home.” His cheeks were pink with delight. “They had a fountain at nursery, and she got soaking because they were allowed to splash, and she got to dry off in the sunshine.”

“She sounds like she’s had a wonderful day.” Jim grinned. “You found a good nursery for them.”

“I’ve always wanted to send them there because they don’t just do education. I went there when I was three.” Freddie grinned. “That’s where I first learned to dance, because they let the boys and the girls do ballet together.”

Jim leaned over the kitchen counter and reached for an apple off of the side. “I’m glad they’re enjoying it.” He yawned and stretched out. “God, what a week this week has been.”

“Isn’t that the wonder of emergency medicine?” Freddie asked, his face lit with a bright smile. “What’s the best shift you’ve ever done? Because you- you seem to get a lot of the bad, what about the good?”

Jim’s face lit up: he knew his immediate response. “When I was first a consultant, I was supposed to be working an eight hour night shift and the whole hospital was so busy because it was winter rush time.” He smiled. “And halfway through my shift this woman came in, thirty weeks pregnant, and she was in labour. And I had the busiest department, so I was trying to manage everything and get this woman a bed up in maternity, but it wasn’t happening. So when the next consultant came in, I stayed on and delivered this baby with a couple of midwives.” Freddie could see the pride in his face. “I’d never delivered a baby before, but this was a tiny little premature baby girl and she survived, and no one was expecting it.”

“That’s so wonderful.” Freddie placed the kettle on the hob and smiled. “What was her name?”

“Talulah.” Jim smiled. “And I had to keep up that brave face that just promises people I know what I’m doing, and I managed to stabilise her enough to get her up to the neonatal ICU, and now she’s about five months old.”

Freddie sat beside him on a barstool and rested a hand on his shoulder, kissing him long and sweet and slow. “I love how much you love your job.” He said softly. “It makes me feel safe, like you could sort out anything that happened. I always feel scared when the kids get so much as a temperature.”

“I just love to look after people. I love to make the world a happier place.” He smiled, big and unashamed. “Sending little kids out with casts on their arms and lollipops in their hands, or sending someone for emergency surgery on their spine, or intervening in someone’s life when no one else will.” He squeezed Freddie’s hand. “You know, I’m sorry we all failed you before.”

“How can you ever be sorry?” Freddie asked. “How can you ever be sorry for what you’ve done? You’ve changed my whole life.”

“But I could’ve done it earlier.” He said quietly. “When you were twenty-six, I saw you in the emergency department, and I should’ve asked you then.”

“The whole world is filled with should have and could have.” Freddie cupped the back of his neck, cradling it with the palm of his hand. “Who else would’ve risked their job to give me somewhere to go to? They would’ve sent me back in a heartbeat.”

Jim kissed him more firmly this time, no less chaste but with more heart, more feeling. “You just didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I wouldn’t have told you.” Freddie whispered against his lips. “I know you’re talking about when I slashed my arms. I had an excuse lined up, I was drunk and upset over an ex-boyfriend who’d turned me down for a one-night-stand. I wouldn’t have told you what was really going on, because I hadn’t accepted it.”

“But if I’d-” Jim started, but Freddie pressed a finger to his lips. 

“Nothing you could’ve done would’ve made me tell you.” He insisted. “Because my mind, my body, it all belonged to him. I didn’t have the strength to remember who I was back then.” He looked at the kettle on the hob and sighed. “When you’re being abused, everything is so controlled, and you don’t have to think, you just have to do as you’re told. It was one stupid, desperate attempt to escape from him without having to live the rest of my life thinking, breathing and acting on my instincts. Everything was too scary and too painful, and if I’d been offered help I wouldn’t have taken it because I would’ve had to make the decision.”

“Then why are you different now?” Jim asked, voice barely a whisper.

“Because you have to remember who you are when you tear yourself away from it all. You have to- you rebuild yourself using all those things people once said you were. If you’re ever going to escape and leave for good, you can’t afford to be scared, because otherwise you lie awake at night and you just get overwhelmed by how scary the real world is.” He paused. “I’m very scared, darling, and I cry a lot, and there are lots of things I can’t do and I can’t not do, and I don’t know if I’ll ever change. But I can’t afford to be scared when I’m the only concrete thing those kids have left.”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to be so strong.” Jim admitted.

“I’m not nineteen.” He stood up and poured out two mugs of tea. “I can compartmentalise experience; I know you’re not him and he’s not you. That doesn’t mean I’m not scared at the idea of living with you for the rest of my life, because it doesn’t mean I trust you to keep your word on everything you’ve said.” He said bluntly. “I have to be strong. If I wasn’t strong then I either would’ve gone back to him or I would’ve slashed my wrists again, and I can’t afford to do either of those. It wasn’t obligation that kept me there, or guilt, or whatever, because I knew he beat me because he was a disappointed drunk, it was just that I was too fucking scared to disobey him because I knew he’d try and kill me.”

Jim rested a hand on his arm as he brought over the teapot and the milk from the fridge. “I don’t believe it was my fault, I guess. It’s the sense of injustice that keeps me from missing him. I could’ve- I probably could’ve believed him when he said that he beat me because I was worthless, or hideous, or whatever, but children broke the spell. He said he beat them because they were horrendously misbehaved or because they disobeyed him or because they weren’t good enough, but I thought they were perfect. And every time he beat those poor little kids, I realised it was a terror thing. He was scared of losing us and so he beat us until we were too scared to leave.”

“Then why do you flinch when I touch you?” Jim asked quietly.

“Because I don’t trust you.” Freddie was shockingly open; Jim almost choked on his tea. “Because I’ve spent over twenty years being beaten, and I’ve known you a week. I know people can have wonderful and fulfilling relationships, but I’ve never had one, and so I’m hardwired to protect myself from oncoming attacks instead of logically thinking that it’s just because you want to hold me or kiss me.”

“How are you so open about it?” Jim added more sugar to his tea when Freddie brought it over.

“I’m not ashamed of what happened. Because I know it was his problem, not mine, I can tell you what happened and not feel guilty about it. I mean, in some ways I feel disgusting about the whole thing, because I feel like he’s ruined every good quality I’ve ever had and twisted them all for his own benefit, but-” He paused to sip his tea. “I guess that’s just a psychological thing I’ve got to get past. You wouldn’t love me if I was as hideous and deformed as I feel.”

“You’ve got a lot of perspective.” Jim commented.

“It’s the children again.” Freddie sat closer to him and rested his head on his shoulder. “They were supposed to be a way to control me, but they gave me a way to not be so isolated from the rest of the world.”

Jim wondered how much of this was genuinely his attitude, and how much was a cover for things he’d repressed without even realising it: it was unusual for someone to go through years of sexual and physical assaults without significant emotional scars, sometimes for the rest of their life. Freddie’s openness seemed carefully controlled, just enough not to warrant suspicion, to make everyone think everything is fine, no more and no less.

* * *

The embrace was so comfortable, and Freddie couldn’t help it if he held on longer than usual, close and tight and safe and warm in his father’s arms, the first time in so many years, too many years. “I missed you.” He whispered. “I missed you so much, I’m so glad you’re here, thank you for coming back for me-”

Bomi kissed Freddie’s forehead, rubbing his back comfortingly. “I’ve missed you every single day.” He replied. “Every day, I sit and I think about what you’re doing, if you’re safe, why you disappeared.”

Freddie pulled back a little and smiled, wiping his eyes with the pads of his thumbs. “I missed you all so much.” He looked around his family. “I’m sorry.” He glanced over at Jim, suddenly feeling as though he needed his boyfriend there; Jim seemed to recognise the look in his eyes and came closer to him, wrapping that one comforting arm around his waist. 

“I think we’ve got a lot to catch up on.” Kash looked over at Jim and smiled.

“I think we have.” Freddie looked around quickly when he heard faint crying, and knew immediately what the matter was: Xavier would get frustrated very quickly if he couldn’t get out of his cot. “I’m so sorry, just let me-”

He walked into the children’s room and picked up his son carefully, cradling him close until he calmed down; the cast had come off a few days ago and he was taking every opportunity to be affectionate with his children again. “Hey, darling.” He smiled, kissing his forehead. “You’re okay, sweetheart, Daddy’s here now.”

Xavier started to smile up at Freddie, brushing his fingers across his moustache and giggling to himself. “There’s my little man.” Freddie grinned. “Everything okay, sweetness?”

He nodded, making grabbing hands for his blanket until Freddie gave it to him. “Daddy cuddle.” He said softly, making Freddie smile.

“A little later, darling, we have some people here that would like to see you.” He explained gently. “They’re my mummy and daddy, and my sister.”

“Like Holly?” He asked.

“Exactly like Holly.” Freddie nodded and rested him on his hip as they walked back into the kitchen.

“Pop!” He squeaked, holding his arms out for Jim immediately; Jim chuckled and took the little boy, cuddling him close. 

“Freddie-” Jer gasped. “Freddie, who’s this?”

“Avi!” Xavier said happily: it was as much of his name as he could pronounce.

“This is Xavier, my son.” He smiled, a little bashful, and smoothed his curly hair back from his face. “My little boy.” Xavier giggled under all the praise and snuggled into his favourite spot on Jim’s shoulder. “He’s just turned two.”

“Oh, isn’t he gorgeous?” Jer smiled over at him. “He’s so beautiful, Freddie. Look at that little nose!”

Freddie grinned as Xavier looked at her curiously, reaching out to tug at her hair playfully. “Mama.” He said intuitively, copying the behaviour of the other children at nursery; he didn’t understand when everybody started laughing and Jim kissed his temple.

“That’s your grandma, baby.” Freddie chuckled. “She’s very special.”

Xavier held out his arms and smiled when she held him; she felt different, softer, and he liked the smell of her perfume. “Grama.” He tried again, beaming when she kissed his forehead.

“Daddy?” Holly asked from the doorway, pausing unsurely. 

“This is the other half of the set.” Freddie joked, crouching down when she came to cuddle; she was shy and not as outgoing as Xavier, knowing where she was safe and where she was unsure. “This is my little girl, Holly, she’s three.”

“They both look so similar!” Bomi smiled at the little girl. “They’re adopted, yes?”

“Yes.” Freddie replied, smoothing his fingers through her hair. “They’re brother and sister. We adopted them when Holly was one and Xavier was newborn, because their parents were very sadly killed in a car crash.” He explained. “This is your grandma and your grandad, darling, and your auntie Kash.”

“Kash.” She echoed, looking over at her warily. 

“Kash.” Freddie smiled. “My sister. Don’t worry, darling, no one’s going to hurt you. Daddy and Pop are here.” He lowered his voice a little, trying to soothe her.

She nodded, glancing at Kash again and lightly touching the scarf around her neck. “Pretty.”

“And who’s this, while we’re on introductions?” Bomi asked fondly, squeezing Jim’s shoulder. “Paul’s certainly changed.”

“I’m definitely not Paul.” Jim chuckled, putting the kettle on the hob. “I’m Jim, I’m Freddie’s boyfriend. I’m an emergency consultant at the Chelsea and Westminster hospital.”

Jer was immediately impressed. “What does that mean, darling?” She asked.

“I run the A&E department most nights, though it’s usually evenings or mornings rather than total overnights.” He explained. “I’ve been working in the hospital for thirteen years.”

“Freddie, you have scored with this one.” Kash joked, leaning over to retie one of Holly’s hair ties. “It never occurred to me that you’d have a whole family going.”

“I’m very lucky.” Freddie smiled, and Jim stopped still for a moment.

He’d heard that desperate assurance before, a painful, twisted smile on his face after another beating; he’d heard desperate promises that he was happy where he was, lucky to have such wonderful people in his life. It had sounded dry, weak, unsure, almost robotic, a mantra he’d been taught to repeat at every opportunity.

Jim brushed past him and kissed his cheek, wishing he could take him in his arms and kiss him and hold him close for a few seconds, because he’d said it this time with so much emotion in his voice, so much love for everyone in the room, for this life he’d suddenly been thrust into the middle of. He’d been thrown into a world where his boyfriend liked to hold him at night and pressed kisses to his cheeks to wake him, where his children could be happy, healthy and safe, any marks on their bodies beginning to fade away, where he could laugh and joke and argue and cry without fear of repercussion.

When Freddie was half asleep against his side later on in the evening, relaxed and happy and warm as he got to spend time with his family, his big, extended family, Jim realised just what a difference he’d made.


	7. Bathtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A calm, quiet evening.

Jim could tell that Freddie was very unused to prolonged affection, very unsure of what he was doing: he would kiss for a few moments, hug quickly, but he never let himself snuggle in the same way as he did with the children. Even in moments like now, sharing the sofa long after the children were in bed, Freddie sat carefully on the end of the sofa, as though expecting to be asked to fetch something or do something at any second.

“Hey?” Jim asked softly, holding out an arm for him. “I’m cold over here, darling, warm me up?” He asked hopefully.

Freddie faltered and smiled shyly. “You want that?”

“Of course I do, darling.” He laughed as Freddie almost fell over himself to crawl into his arms, moulding himself perfectly to every contour of Jim’s body. Jim squeezed him playfully and kissed the top of his head, resting back against the cushions. “I love you.”

Freddie glanced up at him, smile big and open and unashamed. “I love you too.” He said softly, taking Jim’s hand and pressing a kiss to his wrist. “It’s a long time since I sat with somebody like this.”

“I warned you that I’m awfully cuddly.” Jim linked their fingers and smiled. “You’re like my little teddy bear, but you’re better because you’re warm and you snuggle back.”

Freddie hid his blush in Jim’s chest; it felt good to be flushed from compliments instead of insults, joy instead of shame. “I feel so different with you.” He said softly. “You make me feel so different, I feel so- so warm, now, I think. I almost forget that I’m so scared all the time, I was so robotic and sad all the time and I think I thought I forgot how to love but I just feel so happy and I feel like my heart’s warmed up again.”

Jim pressed their lips together, wanting to feel, to taste Freddie’s smile. “I can see that.” He agreed. “You feel more human now, you feel like you’re you instead of being someone that someone else wants you to be.”

“I couldn’t have asked for someone better to accidentally fall in love with.” Freddie said with a shy grin. “I thought that for my own safety, I’d never fall in love again, just to be safe. I thought it would be better to just be alone and never get close to anyone again. In hindsight, I think I’d be very lonely if I did that.”

Jim ran his fingers through the blunt ends of Freddie’s hair. “You’re so fluffy.” He grinned. “I’m very lucky that you’ve given me a chance. I’ve never- never connected with somebody in the same way as I have with you before, you’re completely different to anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You know, I honestly never expected to meet someone that would take me on with the children. I can’t believe how much you seem to love them already.” He smiled crookedly. “And Holly adores you, and Xavier gets so excited when you’re home.”

“I love them so much.” Jim chuckled. “I’m trying not to intrude on you too much, because they’re your children, but I do love kissing them goodnight and making sure the nightlight’s on and things like that.”

“It’s not intruding!” Freddie’s voice was so fond, so incredulous. “Not at all, darling, I would love for you to help out or do whatever you want to.”

“I’d love to do bathtime or read them a story or something.” He admitted shyly. “I’d love to- I’d love to be a proper father to them, I suppose. I’d love for them to see me as something like another father figure.”

“I would love the help.” Freddie knelt up beside him and kissed him softly. “You’re not imposing yourself or anything like that. We’re very lucky to have you, even more so if you want to do little things to care for them.”

“You know, darling?” He kissed Freddie again, smiling to himself. “I think I’m in the mood for a bath myself. Do you want to join me?”

“Join you?” Freddie echoed. “How?”

“The main bath is huge, we can fit both of us side by side, or closer if you want that.” Jim traced his collarbone with the pad of his thumb, back and forth in a comforting rhythm.

“I probably won’t be very relaxing.” Freddie mumbled shyly. “I’m not very pretty to look at, you might wish you’d never asked me.”

Jim wrapped his arms tighter around his boyfriend. “I love every little part of you.” He said honestly. “I think you’re the most beautiful man in London. I don’t care if you’ve got scars or bruises or marks on you, you’re the man I love and nothing like that matters to me.”

Freddie blushed, but Jim could see a happy smile growing on his cheeks. “I feel silly for being scared.” He admitted, wanting to be as open with his lover as he could be.

“We can keep our underwear on, if that’ll make you more comfortable. You don’t have to do it, darling, if you don’t want to.” Jim squeezed his shoulder.

“No, no, I do want to.” Freddie insisted. “Wouldn’t that be silly?”

“Nothing’s silly if it makes you feel comfortable.” He promised. “This is our house, we can do whatever we’d like to, no one else has to see.”

“I’ll try it.” He said with a shy smile. “With them- with them on, if that’s okay?”

Jim stood up and held out a hand for him. ‘I’m thinking lots of bubbles.” He kissed the back of Freddie’s neck as he wrapped the same arm around his waist. “Maybe a candle.”

“Sounds lovely.” Freddie followed him down the stairs into their main bathroom, the one they only used rarely. “Why did you choose to live on a boat?” He asked as Jim began to run it, sitting on the floor beside the bath and looking through the different scents of bubbles. 

“I don’t know.” Jim chuckled and knelt beside him. “I think it’s the freedom. I always loved sailing as a kid, and I just- I got very disillusioned in my twenties, and I stopped enjoying having a house because it always felt too big and I felt very lonely. And getting a boat just felt so cozy, and suddenly I felt happy being on my own again.”

Freddie smiled at the idea of Jim curled up in his old boat. “I like the way that it rocks. It feels like nature is trying to send you to sleep, it’s good to help me calm down when I get stressed out.”

“It’s so different to having a house but at the same time it’s so similar.” Jim took the bottle of bubbles that Freddie chose and added them to the bath. “What scent did you choose?”

“Baby bee.” Freddie smiled bashfully. “It’s the one I use for the kids, it’s kind of vanilla scented. It’s got some kind of protein in to soften the skin, too, and I love it.”

Jim smelled the bottle and smiled to himself. “I’ve definitely smelled this on Holly.”

“It’s a special set that I love. It’s got a shampoo, bubble bath, baby oil, cream, soap and lotion.” Jim kissed each of his pink cheeks in turn. “It smells so nice and it doesn’t sting if it gets in their eyes and I’ve used it on them ever since they were tiny babies.”

Jim carefully helped him take his t-shirt off, not wanting to rush him but wanting him to feel loved and supported. “Can I look at your back?” He asked.

Freddie turned around shyly, showing him how it had healed; the deeper cuts were still angry and red, while some of the smaller ones had faded to pink lines, and he could still see clear handprints of bruises on his hips. “You’re healing well.” Jim smoothed a hand over his shoulder blade, soft and gentle. “I don’t think you’ll scar too badly. You did well to come to us so quickly.”

“It was the children. Holly remembered what someone said to her about me coming back in if I got hurt again.” He explained shyly. “It’s not sore anymore, at least. T-shirts were painful for the first few days.”

“How’s your asthma been?” Jim questioned, taking off his own t-shirt before turning off the taps. “Just so I can help keep an eye on it.”

Freddie paused for a moment; he hadn’t had an attack in almost four days, and he hadn’t even thought about it. “I’ve been okay.” He nodded. “I had an attack after the funfair, and I had one when I had another nightmare a few days ago, but that’s- that’s it.”

“Have you been using your brown inhaler?” He questioned, taking off his belt; he wound it around his hand and dropped it on the ground with a clatter, unthinking until Freddie flinched away. “Shit, sorry, darling, I didn’t even think-”

“It’s okay.” Freddie shook his head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, don’t worry, I’m just jumpy, it’s not your fault.”

Jim leaned over and kissed his forehead softly. “Don’t apologise.” He said softly. “I should’ve thought first.”

“It’s fine.” Freddie rested a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to press their lips together, a little firmer to prove what he was saying. “The bath’s going to go cold.”

Jim kicked off his jeans and stepped into the water, sighing happily. “Oh, you need to feel this, it’s heavenly.”

Freddie stripped down to his underwear and got into the water before he could change his mind. The water seemed to ease out every bit of soreness, tenseness, tightness from his body, and he found himself relaxed against Jim’s chest a few moments later, arms warm and close around his waist. He let his head fall back against Jim’s shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed by tiredness; he felt as though he’d spent his whole life fearful, on edge, frightened for himself and everyone else. Now, with the smell of the children’s bubble bath in his nose, water coming warm up to his mid-chest, he felt perfectly peaceful for the first time.

Jim kissed his temple and readjusted his arms so they could both lay back a little more. “What do you want out of life?” He asked Freddie curiously. 

Freddie yawned and snuggled closer, feeling a little less inhibited. “I don’t know.” He admitted, taking Jim’s hand. “I’m not really interested in conventional stuff, a big house and a car and things like that.”

“If not material things, then what?” Jim asked, running cool water through Freddie’s hair. “A career? A bigger family? Experiences, travel, something like that?”

“When I was sixteen, I trained with the English National Ballet School for a while, but I never got a professional contract because I was too injured to do any auditions.” Freddie closed his eyes automatically and let himself be babied. “If I had my time again, I’d go for those auditions and try and get myself a company place.”

“Couldn’t you still do that now? Train with one of those companies, go up on stage?” He asked, kissing the side of Freddie’s neck.

“At thirty-four?” Freddie laughed. “It’s impossible. That’s nearly retirement age.”

“Your early thirties is the peak of human performance.” Jim told him. “It’s the time when your muscles are strongest and your heart and lungs are healthiest. The reason most ballet dancers retire in their forties is because they’ve been training non-stop since they were children. You haven’t spent years pushing yourself to the absolute limit, so you’re less susceptible to weak ankles and recurring strain injuries.”

“You’re sexy when you talk medical.” Freddie joked. “I doubt anywhere would give me an audition at my age, though. Most people don’t know the medical side of it.”

“You should look out for any opportunities.” Jim said softly. “Don’t give up on it, darling.”

Freddie blushed and leaned up towards him. “Kiss?” He asked softly. Jim kissed him softly, slowly, relishing in the warm, wet hand that came up to cup his cheek, getting lost and sinking in the feeling until Freddie pulled back a little. “I won’t give up on it, I promise.”

* * *

“Here-” Jim passed him the morning newspaper, circling a small cutting in pen. “You should give this a go.”

Freddie paused from where he was cutting up the children’s toast into triangles, handing it to them quickly and then scanning the newspaper. He bit his lip as he read the title-

_ The Royal Ballet audition season is beginning soon- _

“That’s two weeks away.” Freddie said shyly. “I haven’t even put the shoes on in months, there’s no way I can be fit enough to go through an audition season-”

“Are you talking yourself down?” Jim stood up and gently took his hand. “You’ve got two weeks. That’s a lot of time.”

“I guess I am.” Freddie’s cheeks flushed with something close to disappointment in himself; he’d been doing so well to put his lack of self-esteem behind him, blocking everything out, until the idea of progression, putting himself out there, had come biting at his heels. “I just don’t believe I can do it.”

“How can we make you believe it?” Jim asked softly. “I want you to see how wonderful you are.”

Freddie’s blush became a little sweeter and he turned to face Jim. “I could give it a go.” He said quietly. “Maybe- if I went back to my ballet school, I could talk to one of my teachers about it, see if he thinks it’s a good idea.”

Jim kissed him softly and smiled. “I think you can do it, baby. No, fuck that, I know you can.”


	8. Pager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The determination reignites a light within him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you've caught up with the last chapter before you read this one!

The tan shoes were still lighter than his skin tone, no longer the sickly grey of a man confined to a world indoors but the healthy glow of a man who would sit on the top deck of a boat, writing or reading or listening to the faint, tinny music coming from a neighbour’s radio; he was a man connected to his surroundings, to his ambitions, suddenly having found his drive. Things that were once part of the motions took on an enhanced importance, knives sharpened to cut important vegetables for important meals, once-lazy stretches performed with the urgency of importance, clothes washed and dried and ironed, starched and perfect for the hasty onset of the day’s rehearsals. The beginnings of the morning were still a little lazy, slow kisses in bed before Jim had to be up and into the shower, but Freddie no longer languished in bed listening to the faint sound of water droplets: he was up, and the children were up, and breakfast was served as a family of three or four before the children climbed excitedly into their clothes for nursery, occasionally holding still for Freddie to brush their hair, more often still if Jim did it instead. Xavier would sit on Freddie’s hip, and Holly would skip beside him, telling him anything and everything about the day ahead, weather predictions and games she’d imagined and the colour her best friend might wear, while Xavier squeaked with excitement every time he saw a red car that looked like Jim’s.

And when the children were happily in nursery with kisses on cheeks and promises that he or Jim would be back at three, Freddie’s day would begin.

It would start like this, in the quiet of the studio long before anyone else arrived. He’d fold himself forward, palms of his hands to the cold vinyl flooring, walking out the soreness in his hamstrings, unused to dancing for so many hours a week. He’d step back into a low lunge, twist upwards and back into a high plank, down into upward dog, taking a moment to click the part of his back that always protested the exertion. From there, he’d go into where he was now, sat in his box splits, cursing the inside of his left thigh for not cooperating with his stretches. He’d push himself forward until his hips were flush with the mirror, watching himself with an ardent curiosity: the bruises on his forearms had smudged into barely-perceptible traces of yellow, his hair was beginning to curl at the ends with extra length and sweat, and he had a spark behind his eyes that he hadn’t seen in the mirror in years. The face that he’d sought to avoid looking at for so long stared back with defiance, with a smile curling at the corner of its lips, and he found himself stealing glances whenever he got the opportunity.

Then it would be into his front splits, testing each leg; his body had almost ceased protesting, letting him get into more of a rhythm, picking one of his piano tunes in his mind to move with, connecting movement and music and muscle once again.

Jacqui would take up a place behind the piano for a little while, familiar notes occupying his mind as he moved to the barre, stretching out the arches of his feet, his splits while standing; she shared his secret practices with a faithful silence, accompanying without ever imposing her teaching on him during that time. He would roll out his back, a steadying hand on the bar, his whole body now warm from top to toe.

By the time the others filtered in for the eleven o’clock class, he was sat on the floor binding his toes together, ready for whichever shoes he chose that day; he looked as though he’d been there only moments, patient and waiting, sewing or cutting or softening, ready to greet everyone with that same smile of the undervalued performer, the one with normality at his fingertips and the world behind his eyes.

He tilted his chin up in defiance as he danced, the one place he was unequivocally himself, the one place he didn’t have to think about aches and pains and responsibilities and wasted time: he was good, he was beautiful to watch and he would hold that with him for the rest of his life as the music crescendoed over him. He didn’t think about his feet, nor his arms, nor the strong line of his throat as he was taken along with the music, telling its story, singing heartbreak and emotional ruin and lives destroyed by expectations through only face and body and interaction. He was learning his fourth variation of the week, completely at odds with the way he’d been learning for years, practicing the same dance for weeks upon weeks, never putting enough time or energy into it to make himself shine.

Now, he owed it to Jim, but more than that, he owed it to himself. He owed it to every day he’d put the shoes away because he was too badly hurt, emotionally and physically, the days he couldn’t crawl out of bed because anywhere other than bed he’d have to look at himself, and that might make him ill. He owed it to every time he’d been insulted and beaten down, good but not good enough, pretty but not pretty enough, talented but not talented enough. He owed it to every time he’d slipped, every time he’d been forced to slip, every horrible word or gesture that had been thrown at him, forcing him into submission.

He owed it to his own dreams, dreams that were important and mattered.

His hands were strong, and his body was strong, and his mind was strong, and he deserved as much of a chance as any eighteen-year-old with the perfect body and the perfect brain. He deserved one taste of stage lights, a final fuck you, a reason to finally be proud of himself and something he’d managed to do.

His whole life had belonged to somebody else. His dreams had never mattered before, because he’d been the property of someone else, a toy for them to play with and throw away when they were finished. Inside, he still recognised that man, kneeling on the corner of the bathroom floor and coughing up his own teeth; struggling for breath in the kitchen, coughing and choking and vomiting with fear; laying numb on a bed, staring at the ceiling, mind detached from body; slowly dripping blood into warm bath water, eyes closed. Inside, he still recognised that man, but outside, his eyes had a fire that they’d never had before, a fire of determination and desire, dauntless and daring and downright dangerous. 

His life was his, now.

* * *

“What variation did you learn today?” Jim asked, handing him a warm mug of tea; he was shaking a little, his muscles exhausted, but he was smiling. “You look sleepy.”

“I feel it.” He smiled and took a sip, letting Jim wrap a blanket around his shoulders. “It’s crazy to think I might do all this and then not get past the barre class. I don’t think it felt like this much work when I was a teenager. I did Giselle today.”

“Giselle is expert level, right?” Jim grinned with pride and took him through into the lounge. “So you’ve got Giselle, Sleeping Beauty, the Awakening of Flora and what else?”

“I thought I might do Mayerling for my pas de deux variation.” He said softly. “I might be crazy because it’s impossible to do it really well, but when I heard it, I just- I really connected with it.”

“What’s it about?” Jim arranged them comfortably, wrapping the blanket around the both of them and pulling Freddie in close.

His eyes began to droop drowsily almost immediately. “It’s about a man that can’t marry the girl he loves because he’s being forced into a marriage with another woman, so they commit a murder-suicide to be together.” His voice was low with sleep. “And it just feels so hopeless in parts, and you have to put so much trust in the other person- you have to just fall and hope they’ll catch you, because that’s what true love is.”

“I like that.” Jim yawned and rested his chin on top of Freddie’s head. “Are you definitely going to audition, then?”

“I went into the Opera House today.” Freddie’s cheeks pinkened. “I’ve never been in before. I filled out the audition request form and they said they’ll be in touch if I sound right for them. I doubt they’ll give me one, they’re not looking for someone with loads of experience, they’re looking for artists and soloists.”

“But they’ll know you need a lot of training to go from dancing nine hours a week to nine hours a day.” He smoothed out Freddie’s hair. “Don’t think about it too much, sweetheart, just give it your best shot. They won’t know what you’ve got unless you show them what they’re missing.”

Freddie smiled then and let his eyes close comfortably. “You talk so much sense, darling.” He said quietly. “All the teachers are saying I should go for it, and I suppose even if it doesn’t go well, at least I get a free professional barre class out of it.” He traced a lazy pattern on Jim’s chest. “I need to stretch out my arches, because I know they’re looking at the aesthetics of it and if my feet look lazy then they’ll cut me.”

“You know more than you think you do.” Jim promised. “Just go with it intuitively. If it feels right, then do it, and if it feels wrong, then you know you need to change something. Don’t let them sideline you, you’ve got to fight for them to pay attention to you.”

Freddie yawned and felt himself beginning to drift against Jim’s chest, soothed by kind words and kind fingers and the gentle beating of Jim’s heart against his cheek. Jim hooked his fingers under Freddie’s chin but Freddie snuggled closer, trying to make himself more comfortable; Jim laughed at his reluctance and wrapped the blankets around him. He gently hooked his arm under Freddie’s knees and around his shoulders, picking him up bridal style: Freddie’s eyes snapped open for a moment, but he relaxed when he saw Jim’s warm smile and the way he headed for the bedroom. “Relax, baby, I’m just taking you to bed.” He said gently.

“Thank you.” Freddie whispered, letting himself be lay down in bed and all tucked in. “It’s like I’m one of the kids.”

“We all need a little looking after sometimes, my darling.” Jim knelt beside him and kissed his forehead. “And if you need a rest, my little ballerina, you have to rest.”

Freddie smiled tiredly and looped his arms around Jim’s neck, pulling him into a sleepy kiss. “I love you.” He whispered. “You’re so good to me.”

“I love you too. It’s my way of showing you how much I appreciate having you here.” He kissed the corner of his mouth again and grinned. “You rest, darling, I’ll be awake a little longer and I’ll be up on top. You can come and find me if you wake up.”

“Goodnight.” Freddie whispered, closing his eyes once again.

* * *

“Are you alright?” Matthew rested a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Your hands are shaking like mad.”

“I need a cigarette.” He chuckled. “I’m trying to quit, I can’t smoke at home, but it’s fucking harder than I thought it would be.”

“Why can’t you smoke at home?” He asked, an amused smile on his face.

“He’s an asthmatic, Matt.” He laughed. “And he has very small children, and no one’s going to appreciate it if I light up so that no one can breathe.”

Matthew handed him a cigarette and smiled. “One for old times’ sake?”

“You bastard.” Jim grinned but took it anyway, lighting it with a match. “How are the exams going?”

“Pretty well.” Matthew smiled. “You’re a fabulous teacher. I had a question on how to perform a proper tracheostomy, and I wrote down all those steps that you taught me when we had to do it at two in the morning after a Saturday night out. You’ve let me be more hands-on than most consultants are.”

Jim smiled over at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and squeezing him playfully. “Because you know everything that you need to at this stage, you can help me with anything. If I don’t teach you how to do something, how can I ever expect you to take charge?”

“You want me to take charge?” Matthew asked, awed.

“Of course I do.” Jim chucked. “I want you to become a registrar or a damn consultant one day. One of these days, it’s going to be us and a handful of nurses for a resus shift, and I’m going to need you to be equal with me, instead of learning from me. I know you can do it.”

He smiled shyly. “I really couldn’t have been paired with a better consultant.”

Jim chuckled. “Thank you for working so fucking hard and keeping up with my ridiculous shift pattern.”

Matthew looked out over the balcony and lit his own cigarette. “Thanks for not working purely night shifts.” He laughed.

Jim scanned the staff car park when an alarm began to ring, checking for the red paint of his car anywhere; he frowned when he saw it was his that was ringing. “I’ll be back in two minutes, I’m just going to check it out.” He squeezed Matthew’s shoulder and made his way down the outside stairs, cigarette hanging from between his lips.

He had just enough sense to press the ‘emergency’ button on his pager when he saw two smashed windows and something else, something so much worse.


	9. Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Empty promises.

“I need two units of adrenaline and someone to cross-match at least two units of blood to be prepared.” Jim rolled up his sleeves and took over pressing down on the wound, trying not to let himself look down at Freddie’s face; he needed to separate this, medical and emotional. Freddie needed him more now than ever. “I want an x-ray to see how deep this has gone, and a CT to see if there’s any internal bleeding. I need someone to call another consultant to cover my shift, because I can’t focus on the rest of the ward like this. I need a trauma nurse to every two bays and-” He looked over at the registrar behind him. “You’re going to take on the ward until the next consultant arrives.”

There was still something mystifying about how quick people were to follow his orders, and he breathed out for a moment, looking down at Freddie. “Darling, you’re going to be okay.” He promised. “I’m going to look after you.”

“I’m sorry.” Freddie winced at the pressure over the wound on his stomach. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s all such a blur-”

Jim leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Please don’t apologise to me.” He said quietly. “This isn’t your fault in the slightest, darling, you don’t have to be sorry.”

“It really hurts-” He whispered, sounding broken. “He said he’d do this and I always thought he was bluffing, I thought that he didn’t have it in him.”

“Can I get ten milligrams of morphine?” Jim looked at the nurse behind him. “I need to take a look at the wound, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I-” There were suddenly tears in his eyes. “It’s one of our kitchen knives, they’re not clean, it’s-”

“Calm down, darling, come on, breathe for me-” Jim pulled back the sodden shirt and swapped it for a clean gauze. “I need one of those blood units in asap, you’ll need a new line. I also want to start with  amoxicillin, five hundred, just in case.”

“You need to know-” Freddie’s face was contorted with fear and pain. “I might be HIV positive, he was and he always said he’d look after me and he- he always used protection, even when he was angry with me because he loved me, but he didn’t this time and I’m scared-” His voice broke and he shut his eyes tightly as a tear slipped out.

Jim was thankful that he’d been through situations like this before, because this would ruin him if it had been his first. “It’s alright, darling, we can help you.” He promised, squeezing Freddie’s hand. “I’m going to try a medication on you, it’s an injection. It can help stop it before it multiplies enough to make you sick.”

Freddie swallowed the lump in his throat and he nodded. “Okay.” He whispered. “I trust you.”

* * *

Jim leaned over, elbows to knees and hands clasped behind his neck. “I’m glad they got him into surgery.” He said quietly. “I have to keep saying it to myself or I’ll cry.” He looked over at Matthew, choking back a sob when he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “It’s weird, you know all the statistics and all the treatments and all the chances and you still feel like he’s going to die.”

“The rupture of his stomach was significant, we both know that.” Matthew rubbed between his shoulder blades. “It’s going to take him a good month to recover from that. It’s understandable that you’re frightened.”

“I just- I love him, Matt, I don’t want him to be injured or ill or anything like that.” He said quietly. “I need to go and collect the kids but I don’t want to leave just in case.”

“Talk to me, talk it out.” Matthew said. “Tell me what’s going to happen logically.”

Jim took a long breath. “He’s in surgery, where they’ll sew the wound in his stomach and they’ll correct any bleeding. Then he’ll come out, he’ll go into recovery, and they’ll fit him with a tube that bypasses his stomach so he doesn’t cause straining on the stitches. He’ll take half of his food by mouth and half through the tube, so that his stomach muscles don’t lose strength.” He started to relax as he explained it. “He’ll have that for about a month. He’ll stay on the ward for a few hours at least, probably a day, and then he’ll be out.”

“He’ll be in surgery for another couple of hours yet.” Matthew squeezed his hand. “I’ll call you if anything changes. Go and get those children, he’ll want to see them.”

“You’re right.” Jim looked down at his scrubs, ugly and bloodstained. “I’ll get changed first, though.”

“Don’t go and scare them.” Matthew chuckled. “It’ll be fine, soldier. You’ve patched up worse.”

* * *

“Pop!” Holly squealed and hurtled towards Jim, wrapping her arms tightly around his leg; she dragged Xavier behind her, toddling furiously. “Pop, Pop!”

“Hey, darling.” Jim sounded a little distant as he crouched down to hug her. “Listen, we need to be quick, okay? We’re going to go home and pick up a few things for Daddy and then we need to go back to the hospital, because Daddy’s not very well.”

“Was it Papa?” Holly asked, looking a little fearful and clutching closer to Jim.

Jim sighed and held her close for a few moments. “Yes, sweetheart, but you’re okay. Daddy’s going to be just fine, and I’m going to protect you.” He promised. “So we’re going to get Daddy and all of us some pajamas and any toys you want to take, and then we’re going to go and see him, okay?”

Holly ran into the house as soon as they got back, selecting pajamas for her and a sleepsuit for Xavier, his favourite with white stars on a navy background: Freddie had always liked him in sleepsuits, the way he’d act all snuggly and little once he’d wriggled into them. She still had some of her own, ones that he’d cuddle her up in if she was having trouble sleeping, and she snuck one into the pile though she was being a big girl now. 

Xavier picked up just his blanket, wanting the comfort, and clung close to Jim while he organised an outfit for Freddie, half comprised of his clothes and half of Jim’s. Holly brought her teddy bear and the pile to Jim, and he kissed her forehead before putting it all in a bag. “We’re going to stay the night so Daddy doesn’t have to be on his own.” He explained. 

* * *

Freddie had had many hospital stays in his life for infections, wounds, broken bones, and every one of them had been tainted by fear: the fear of saying the wrong thing, saying too much, saying too little, showing too much or not enough, the fear of his husband humiliating him while drunk. It was worse still when he’d been abused in hospital, trying to muffle any sounds and hoping the children wouldn’t see too much, the sick nausea of pain making him seem more ill yet.

This time, Freddie was calm, still a little sleepy from the hangover over the drugs, his baby son sleeping against his chest and his boyfriend laying next to him, fingers running gently through his hair. “Thank you for staying with me.” He said quietly.

“Oh, darling.” Jim kissed his forehead. “I’m just glad that everything’s going to be okay. You gave me the shock of my life.”

“He wanted to scare you.” Freddie said softly. “He said I had to get in the car and I wouldn’t do it, I thought he was just messing around with the knife, but he just- well, you saw. And he drove here, and he was planning to just leave me here and- I mean, I think he planned for me to be there a lot longer, that’s why he locked me in, but I thought if I put my foot through a window then the alarms might go off.”

“He seems to forget that I work in emergency medicine.” He stroked Freddie’s cheek and smiled. “And I can put you in the hands of the best doctors in London, should needs be.”

Freddie closed his eyes and rested his cheek against Jim’s chest. “Am I going to be okay?” He asked, sounding almost childlike.

“More than okay.” Jim promised. “Your blood shows no signs of the virus, but you need to have a couple more injections over the next few days to be certain. Your stomach is going to be just fine, you just can’t eat too much because you don’t want to strain the stitches, which is why you’ve got the tube for a few weeks.”

“Promise it’s just a few weeks?” He whispered.

“Darling, I promise you.” He kissed the top of Freddie’s head. “It’s going to make sure you don’t lose all that muscle you’ve been working so hard for.”

Freddie sighed slowly, brushing Xavier’s hair from his sleeping face. “I guess I’m not auditioning anytime soon.”

“We can call them and see if they’ll push it back a few weeks.” He rested his chin on top of Freddie’s head and closed his eyes. “A week and a half is a relatively good amount of time for the skin and the muscle to heal. Your stomach will take longer, but you- there’s the possibility that you could still do it.”

“I could?” He asked shyly. “Won’t they hate the tube?”

“They’ll understand, baby, they won’t discriminate against you for that.” He promised. “Let’s see how you’re doing in a week, and then we’ll decide.”

Freddie closed his eyes and settled down to sleep. “I love you.” He whispered. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

Jim lifted Holly up amongst the blankets; Xavier slept on Freddie while Holly cuddled up against Jim’s chest. He’d put her in her sleepsuit straight away, the true promise that she could afford to be little, she didn’t have to look after her Daddy: she cuddled up with her teddy bear and closed her eyes, smiling sleepily when Freddie kissed her forehead. “I love you, little one.” He said gently.

“I love my daddies.” Holly said sleepily, balling one little fist in Jim’s t-shirt.

“Love.” Xavier murmured, and for the first time, Freddie let himself sleep without worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My medical accuracy is obvs not spot-on (esp. bc PEP and the like weren't introduced until the 1990s) but hey this is fiction and therefore I can mess around with medical timelines to make things better!


	10. IV Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He finds the routine easy, relaxing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies kids this is a slightly dull filler chapter (promise things get more interesting soon!)

It was methodical, and Freddie was good at methodical things: clean his hands, clean the tube, open a sterile syringe, clean his hands, flush it with water, clean the tube again, screw in the feed, repeat for the saline. He had about six hours a day, the working hours where Jim was down in emergency and the children were at nursery, where he chose to do most of his feeding and the saline. The children weren’t scared of it, but it felt almost private, personal somehow, a strange way of caring for himself that he almost enjoyed somehow.

He stretched his toes and curled up in his bed, snuggling into the soft pillow that Jim had brought from home when they’d been told he had another three days on the ward. The tear in his stomach was delicate for now, and the hospital had wanted him to be nil by mouth for the first two days; afterwards, they wanted to check how he was responding to eating again, wanted to check that his stomach wouldn’t be partially paralysed.

Strangely, Freddie didn’t mind; he had his family with him, happy children with cots either side of his bed and a boyfriend that would snuggle him all throughout the evening and the night. 

“Hey!” Freddie jolted awake quickly, looking to where the curtain around his bed had been drawn open. “Hey, you’re the new boy, right?”

Freddie laughed sleepily and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not staying for long.” He justified himself, looking over the girl in front of him. 

“I said that three months ago.” She grinned and sat down in the armchair at the side of his bed. “Trust me, sweetie, it’s not all bad.”

“I’m really not that worried. I’m not sick.” Freddie chuckled and sat up a little. 

She pointed to the IV stand next to his bed and arched an eyebrow. “Not sick? You’re inpatient on a gastro ward.”

Freddie pulled his shirt up a little and showed her the dressing over his stomach. “It’s injury, not illness.”

“Shit, I’m jealous.” She grinned. “I take it back, you’ll be out in a few days.” She stuck out a hand for him to shake. “I’m Amy, I’ve been here for just over a hundred days. I’ve been diagnosed with gastroparesis.”

Freddie quirked an eyebrow but shook her hand regardless. “Freddie.” He smiled. “What’s that?”

“My stomach’s paralysed.” She shrugged. “So I can’t eat anything. I’ve got the same things as you-” She gestured to the stand. “But mine goes through my skin because it’s permanent. That’s how I can tell you’ll be out quickly, because they can just pull yours out and you’re good to go.”

Freddie yawned and nodded, curling back up on his side. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked shyly.

“Absolutely.” She grinned. “I’m going to learn how to deal with it all and then I’m going to travel the world. I’ll get disability and I’ll spend it all on plane tickets.” She laughed. “You have to scam the system.”

“I’ve never travelled.” Freddie hummed. “Where do you want to go?”

“You have those adorable little kids though, don’t you?” She looked a little wistful. “I’ll never get them. So I’ll go to Thailand and to Malaysia and to Australia and Japan and India and everywhere.”

“My kids are adopted, they’re not biologically mine.” He said shyly.

“Really?” She questioned. “I never really thought that you could get kids that cute through adoption.”

“If you wanted, you always could.” Freddie smiled. “There are hundreds of little kids just dying to be adopted, they’ll love you forever.”

“You’re really selling it.” She grinned. “Maybe I will. Maybe our paths will cross again and you’ll find me with a whole hoard of children.”

“Maybe you’ll find me with the same. I’ll go overboard and have another five.” Freddie laughed, shyly admitting something he’d always dreamed of. 

Freddie looked over to the gap in the curtain when he heard little feet running and Holly launched herself at him. “Daddy!” She shouted, hauling herself up onto the bed and throwing her arms around Freddie. 

Amy winked and disappeared to her bed when Jim came around the corner with a sleepy Xavier in his arms and chuckled. “Needless to say, they’re already asking when you’ll start picking them up from nursery again.”

Freddie kissed the top of her forehead and rearranged them so that they could cuddle without Holly being tangled in wires. “Hello, darling.” He laughed as Holly smothered his cheeks in kisses. “Have you had a nice day?”

She nodded excitedly and settled down against his chest. “Are you okay, Daddy?” She asked softly.

“I’m very okay.” He kissed her nose. “In two days I can come home, and I have some very exciting news.”

She giggled: they also had a surprise for Freddie when he came home. “What is it?” She asked curiously. 

“Well, you know that Daddy likes to dance?” He grinned and undid one of her braids, reaching for the hairbrush beside the bed. “Well, I get to go and do some special training with a very big ballet company, one of the best in the world. And when I’ve finished doing lots of training, they might let me join their dancers.”

“That’s a development.” Jim hummed and leaned over to kiss him. “What’s changed, darling?”

Freddie’s cheeks were glowing with pride. “I phoned them up and explained the situation.” He said softly. “And they said that they were interested in seeing me because of my reference and some of the videos that were sent to them by my teachers. They offered to let me go and work with some of their physios to check that there wasn’t any significant damage to my core muscles so I can dance safely.”

Holly was listening, wide-eyed: she didn’t really understand what he was saying, but by the looks on both of their faces, the news was good, and that made her happy. “Can I watch, Daddy?” She asked shyly.

“Of course you can, sweetness.” Freddie undid her other plait and combed her hair out. 

“I want to be a dancer.” She told Jim earnestly. “I want to be like Daddy.”

“I think you’d be a wonderful dancer.” Jim sat on the side of the bed and let Xavier sleep against his shoulder. “We should go and see your Daddy dance together.”

She nodded excitedly. “Please!” She squeaked. 

* * *

Freddie knelt on the floor next to Xavier, helping him to build up a tower as they laughed together. Xavier was a more outgoing child than Holly, but he’d always been very quiet when they’d lived back at home with Paul; it was a tactic that had made him practically never acknowledged by his father.

Now, though, listening to his giggles when their tower fell down, he felt as though he’d gotten his son back.

“Knock knock.” Kash said softly, pulling back the curtain and smiling at the sight of the boys playing together. “Good evening.”

“Kash!” Xavier squealed and jumped up, hugging her leg tightly.

“Hi Avi!” She picked him up and kissed his cheek. “How’s my favourite little boy?”

“Good.” He smiled widely and cuddled into her chest. “Daddy and me playing blocks!”

“I can see that!” She sat on the floor beside Freddie and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “And how’s my favourite big boy?”

“I’m doing much better.” Freddie chuckled. “Strangely missing the boat, it’s weird to be sleeping on solid ground again.”

“When do you get out?” She asked, resting a hand on his. “What happened?”

“It was-” Freddie trailed off. “I have a lot of explaining to do. The last few weeks have been pretty crazy.”

“Why?” She asked, letting Xavier play with her necklace.

“I left Paul about two weeks ago.” He told her. “Upped and left with the kids. He was- he was hurting all of us badly.”

“Like- emotionally?” She questioned. “He didn’t cheat on you, did he?”

“No.” Freddie said quickly. “Well, yes, he did cheat on me, but that didn’t really bother me. No, he- he beat me.” He explained. “Physically and sexually, you know.”

“Shit.” She breathed out. “So was this-” She gestured at his stomach.

“Yeah.” He said softly. “It split my stomach, so I’m waiting until the stitches are okay to leave the hospital, otherwise things might get infected.”

“I’m so glad you told me.” She wrapped her arms around him quickly. “Thank you, Freddie, thank you for getting yourself out of that situation, and those poor kids.”

“That’s how I met Jim. I’d seen him a couple of times for injuries, and I just found myself telling him everything, and he offered to let me sleep on his sofa bed for the night.” Freddie smiled at the thought of his boyfriend. “And then I kind of accidentally fell in love.”

“That’s so adorable.” She smiled. “And he’s treating you well? None of this…”

“No, he’s wonderful, I promise.” Freddie said gently and squeezed her hand. “I’ve got nothing but thanks for him, darling. I’m safe now.”


	11. Bedsheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a relief to get it off his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random fun fact: I now live in London (if you didn't already know) and today I journeyed in Kensington and saw the actual houseboat that Jim and Freddie live on in this fic (I was using the groundplan and general decor of a Chelsea houseboat when writing this) and honestly, my little mind was baffled

Jim had the day off the following day, and Freddie was surprised by his resolute intention to stay with Freddie for the day, through the dull hours of running his feed that he usually just slept through. Furthermore, he was surprised by his complete willingness to do nothing except lay together, chatting until one or the other fell asleep, occasional lapsing into silences when kisses got in the way of words.

“You know-” Jim rested his forehead against Freddie’s and captured his lips once more. “You should really press charges against that bastard for all of this.”

Freddie sighed and his gaze fell towards the bedcovers. “I can’t.” He said quietly.

“You can.” Jim cupped his cheek. “Baby, I know it’s a lot after everything that’s happened, but you can stand up for yourself and make sure that this doesn’t happen to anyone else at his hands-”

“No, darling.” Freddie interrupted him and squeezed his shoulder lightly. “I can’t prosecute him because he hasn’t committed a crime.”

“He’s beaten you black and blue, darling, he’s assaulted you, he’s pressured you into sex, he’s committed so many crimes against you, you have to do something-” Jim insisted.

“And I’m his husband. I don’t have any rights.” He swallowed heavily. “He can physically discipline me if he sees it right, and it’s my duty to submit to him when he wants sex. I signed a legal document that pretty much gave him every right to my body as if it were his own, and he did the same to me, it’s just that we used it differently.”

“Shit.” Jim said quietly. “So that means-”

“Two bodies, one flesh. It’s not rape if it’s in marriage.” He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “I signed myself away nearly thirteen years ago.”

“Thirteen years.” Jim echoed. “Why did you stay so long?”

“How many partners have you had over the years?” Freddie asked in return.

Jim faltered for a second. “I’m not sure.” He admitted. “Probably like- seven long-term boyfriends, but I’ve had my fair share of one night stands.”

“Imagine if you’d only ever been with one man.” Freddie replied. “Imagine if someone came over to you and told you you were beautiful when you were thirteen and just working out your sexuality, and you’re being bullied for being the fag with the teeth. Imagine taking all your classes with that boy, the boy who slapped you on the back of the hand with a ruler if he caught you smiling at other boys and who made you stand guard while he kissed others. Imagine living in a world where your parents love the boy so much and you do too, and you work really damn hard to make him love you in return because else you’re scared that no other boy will ever love you.”

“He hit you when you were kids?” Jim asked, voice quiet and small.

“He knocked one of my teeth out on my fifteenth birthday. He started small, he’d just kick my shin or pinch me, but it didn’t take him long to learn the places to punch that made me cry. My parents loved him, they thought he was settling me right down because I’d been rebellious when I was a child. I always wanted to be some kind of singer or dancer or artist or actor and I’d always been outspoken and confident, and they wanted me to settle down and be happy with being an accountant or a member of the civil service.” He paused and picked at his nails. “And I hated being hit at first, and so I tried to tone down everything so that I wouldn’t offend him and my parents thought he was such a good influence.”

“And you never got to fulfil those dreams?” Jim sighed.

“I got into ballet school when I was sixteen. I was training four times a week while I was at my secondary school, and my exam results were pretty shitty, so I threw myself into doing ballet because I was so good at it and it made me so happy and everyone said I could do it professionally.” Even the memories of the praise seemed to light Freddie up, though it made Jim’s heart ache: he held so desperately to praise he’d received eighteen years ago because he’d barely received any since. “I trained for three full years, I got a degree in classical ballet and performance, and then I was too badly injured to move onto any company auditions. My ballet teacher cried when I said I was leaving because she said I was wasting my talent.”

“Couldn’t you have gone to other auditions?” Jim asked quietly. “Tried some the year after, something like that?”

“I worked out the pattern.” Freddie replied. “He wanted me to be a househusband. I had three auditions, and they were months apart, but the night before each he’d beat me until I had to go to the doctor. The first time he broke my leg, the second he punctured one of my lungs, and the third time was the first he’d had sex with me against my will. I didn’t really feel like auditioning after that, so instead I taught myself how to apply makeup well enough to hide bruises and bought myself some washing up gloves.”

“I can’t imagine my whole life being so narrow.” Jim admitted. “Just being a househusband would drive me insane. Surely there’s a point where you just get sick of cleaning counters and changing beds?”

“So I bleached the bathroom and slit my wrists. He said we’d have the children so I had something to do and I’d stop thinking that I was such a disposable part of my own life.” Freddie sighed. “They were a way to stop me from doing anything else, because they took up so much of my time.”

“Did you really want to die?” Jim asked quietly. “Or was it a cry for help?”

“I didn’t really see the point in being alive anymore. I was having a low day and everything ached and I had no sense of self-worth left anymore.” He paused. “When you live in a world where you sleep on the kitchen floor, you feel like you’re nothing. The cat was allowed on the furniture, but I wasn’t. I was convenience to him, a robot that made him sandwiches and spread its legs whenever he wanted it to. In a weird way, I almost did it out of spite, sort of to prove that his life would be hard without me and that he should value me in a way that he never did. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen him look genuinely worried about me.”

“That’s just awful.” Jim sighed. “What changed?”

“The children were becoming aware of him.” Freddie bit his lip, the familiar heat of tears grating against the back of his nose. “When Xavier was newborn and Holly had only just turned one, they had no idea that I was hurt or why I struggled to lift them into the bath on bad days. I was just their Daddy, and that was all that mattered. But Paul didn’t try and keep it a secret that he hit me, and they started to understand that he was hurting me, and I didn’t want them to grow up in a world where they acquainted violence and love.”

Jim wrapped both arms around him and pulled him in close. “I think it’s just so easy to assume that it’s not hard to get out of that situation.” He said quietly. “Whenever we have training, it’s always implied that whoever is being hurt will want to get out of there as soon as possible, but it’s not true.”

“It’s all we’ve ever known. They put the reason down to us, it being our fault, and we believe them. If you were in a room with a random stranger and you’ve been slashed across the stomach with a kitchen knife, you’d be too embarrassed to say that you’d been disobedient, wouldn’t you? Because then everyone is just going to think the problem is solved by being obedient, like you weren’t trying your absolute hardest by making his favourite food and having the kitchen spotless but he attacked you anyway because he found a hair on your pillow.” Freddie shook his head. “The thing is that nothing’s ever good enough. You could be awake twenty-three hours a day cooking and cleaning and washing, and then you’d get hit because the circles under your eyes were getting too dark.”

And from somewhere, from nowhere, the tears came running down his cheeks, tears of humiliation and futility that had been bottled up for too many years. He’d spent too long disappointed, upset, beaten down over and over again and having to pick himself up and mop the blood from his wounds all by himself. It felt good, somehow, though he felt desperately sad: he had to admit to himself that he hadn’t been happy all those years, that the pretty face he’d put on had been all for show, like the clown that goes home and cries as he removes the night’s makeup. He’d given up so much of his life to pursuing dreams that would never become a reality, dreams of a happy and steady life with his childhood sweetheart, a husband that kissed him on the cheek and wanted to help him with the children when he came home from work, a husband that would look at the pictures on the fridge of his family and feel warmth in his heart.

“Oh, darling-” Jim whispered, rubbing his back lightly as he cried into his chest. “Let it out, baby, let it all out, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

“He just-” Freddie’s voice was shaky and hysterical. “He stole everything, absolutely everything! He took anything good I ever had and fucking ruined it because he could-” He sniffed, deep and wet, uncaring of how unattractive he looked. “He took my fucking childhood away from me, any of my dreams of success, and he fucking terrorised me into living a life that I hated for so many years.” His voice was barely a whisper by the end. “And I let him.”

“You didn’t let him, darling, you were manipulated by him. You did it against your will because he convinced you to.” Jim rubbed his back in slow circles. “And fuck whatever the law said, it was a crime. He committed a crime against you the day he chose you to be his partner.” He pressed his lips to Freddie’s forehead. “He hasn’t ruined you, darling, I promise. You are one of the kindest, most sensitive, most loving people I’ve ever met, and you’re a wonderful father, and you’re one of the strongest people I’ve met besides that.”

“I just want to be more than someone’s husband and someone’s father.” He admitted, heaving out another shaking breath. “I just want to do more with my life, but he’s ruined any chance I’ve ever had, and I thought I had one now, but he’s come along and shoved a knife in my stomach.”

“Hey-” Jim said softly, tilting his head up. “He hasn’t ruined you. Those qualities you were telling me about, being outspoken and confident, they’re still there. Just because you’ve learned to hide them doesn’t mean you’re not a wonderfully talented person who can be very confident.” He pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “And he hasn’t ruined this chance, because you get to train with some very specialised physios, and then you get to audition in your own time. They wouldn’t have given you that opportunity if they didn’t think you were worth investing the effort into.”

“I guess not.” Freddie said quietly, biting his thumbnail. 

“I know they wouldn’t, darling.” Jim promised. “People don’t just give up on you because you have a minor setback. When I was twenty-four, I failed my final medicine exams, and they didn’t just give up on me, they gave me someone to help me and I passed all of them with flying colours when I redid them. Life is full of setbacks, baby, but it doesn’t mean that you’ll never get where you want to be.”

“You did?” Freddie asked softly.

“I did.” Jim chuckled. “I failed my anatomy and clinical studies papers, as well as my biology of infectious disease dissertation. I found them almost impossible, I spent most of the time just staring at my papers because I didn’t know what to do. I got the results and I cried because it meant I couldn’t move up into the clinical years with the rest of my class.” He threaded his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “I’d had a shit year, and I’d missed a tonne of lectures, and I hadn’t completed all of my practicals because I’d been absent half the time. I thought it was the end of the world, I was so upset, because I’d found med school so hard and I was tempted to give up on the whole thing and become a hairdresser.” He smiled encouragingly. “But I went out of my way to sit down with all of my lecturers and ask them to help me, and they did, and I studied dawn to dusk every fucking day until I got the chance to take them again, and I ranked around thirtieth in my class.”

“I never- I never knew.” Freddie admitted. “I got a first in my degree.”

“I got a third in my bachelor of science and a first in my bachelor of medicine and surgery. We all have places we fall down, darling, but we can all get back up. Just because it takes one person six months and another person six years, they can both do it.”

* * *

“Okay, so- ouch-” Freddie stood half hunched over, one of Jim’s arms around his waist. “I can go home?”

“So long as you can walk.” The nurse nodded encouragingly. 

“I am walking.” Freddie said, brow creased in concentration and pain.

“It has to be unassisted, I’m afraid. Can you let go of Jim?” He frowned.

“He’s not relying on me too much.” Jim glanced at Freddie’s face. “Darling, don’t push yourself too much.”

“I can, I can-” Freddie doggedly insisted; he stumbled a little when Jim moved back, hands ghosting the sides of his waist in case he fell, but managed to pull himself into a slightly better posture. “This really fucking hurts.”

“You’ve effectively split one of your core muscles, darling, I’m not surprised. We just need to make sure it’s not completely severed, the surgery team did their best to repair it.” Jim said soothingly. “You only have to take a few steps.”

“I can do it.” He repeated. “I just have to- fuck-” He muttered, moving forwards. “It’s not my legs that hurt.”

“We’re not really looking at your legs.” The nurse explained. “I just have to know that you can hold your body upright while you move, because your core plays a big role in your posture and we don’t want you left with permanent back pain or an inability to completely straighten up.”

He tried his best with his ballet posture, shoulders back and chest up, though the pain stopped him from straightening up completely. “That’s it, baby.” Jim smiled. “When you stop, is it because it hurts?”

Freddie nodded, lower lip trembling a little. “I can try harder-” He insisted, wanting so desperately to be allowed home.

“You don’t need to.” The nurse said quickly, and Jim wrapped both arms around him again to help support him. “I can see that you’ll be able to do that when you’re in less pain, Freddie, and pain means to me that we shouldn’t push your body too much. This is still a new injury, after all.” Jim kissed the back of his neck and he felt Freddie relax his arms. “I’m happy for you to go home and work on it with your physio. Dance physios are especially vigilant on this kind of thing, so you’ll be rereferred if necessary.”

Freddie nodded and rested his head on Jim’s shoulder, suddenly seeming far more relaxed. As the nurse left, a colleague of Jim’s, a senior emergency consultant, stepped into the room. “Can I have a quick word?” He asked, gesturing to the corridor outside.

“Sure.” Jim stepped back. “You get your things packed up, baby, and I’ll be right with you.”

He followed him outside into the corridor quickly, shutting the door behind him. “What’s going on?”

“An anonymous whistleblower has launched the professional safeguarding standards procedure against you.” He explained. “You’re going to be investigated for your relationship with Freddie.”

“Shit-” Jim said quickly. 

“Your license to practice medicine has been temporarily suspended while the board begins its investigation. You’re going on paid leave.” He said simply.

“But I haven’t done anything wrong!” Jim insisted. “I haven’t committed any misdemeanours, I just- I just fell in love!”

“There’s the suggestion of inappropriate conduct when he came in with the injuries from being belted. The board wants to investigate whether you properly followed safeguarding procedures for vulnerable patients.” He shrugged. 

“That’s such bullshit!” He said angrily. “I wasn’t about to let him go back to an abusive partner!”

“You’ll have to make that case to the board, not to me. They’ll be in touch with the date of your hearing.”


	12. Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He almost appreciates the break it affords him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one - next is far longer!

Xavier was quiet against Jim’s chest; both boys lay next to Freddie on the sofa, while Holly slept on the chair opposite them. “You know-” Jim rested his head on Freddie’s shoulder. “I think I might respecialise. I think I might start working on a different ward.”

Freddie liked to hear him talk about the hospital: it reassured him that he was going to be okay, that the standards hearing wasn’t affecting him too much. “I thought you loved emergency medicine?” He asked, resting his lips against Jim’s temple.

“I do.” Jim smiled tiredly and spread his fingers out over Xavier’s back, stopping him from slipping while he shifted a little. His heart was filled with love for the little boy against his chest, the soft breaths that fluttered over the open collar of his work shirt, his complete dependency and complete faith that Jim would look after him. He’d spent his whole life feeling afraid of any man other than Freddie, but he had learned to trust Jim wholeheartedly, the man with the gentle fingers and the funny voice and the kind hands when he scuffed his knees at nursery. “I thought I might respecialise in children’s emergency.”

Freddie hummed and shifted, curling up next to Jim and shivering. “Why?” He asked curiously.

“I want to make kids better.” He admitted, resting his cheek on top of Xavier’s head. “I want to look after children. I never thought that I was a kids person, but I just love our little ones so much, and I want to be able to share the love.”

Freddie couldn’t help but smile: Jim had never referred to them as  _ ours  _ before. “Pop.” Xavier mumbled sleepily, little fingers twining in Jim’s shirt and clutching tight to him.

“Good evening, darling.” He replied, rubbing his back lightly. “Did you have a nice nap?”

Xavier nodded and held out one hand to touch Freddie’s, relaxing when Freddie took one little hand in his own. “Sleepy.” He whispered.

“You can sleep, sweetheart, you don’t have to be awake.” Freddie kissed his forehead gently. “Daddy and Pop are just talking.”

Freddie didn’t consider what he was saying, just spoke slowly and naturally to his son: it wasn’t until the little boy flinched and his eyes opened wider that he realised what he’d said. “Is Daddy okay?” He whispered, trying to be quiet in front of Jim.

“Oh, darling-” Freddie said quickly, sitting up a little so that his son could see him completely. It had always been what he’d said when one of the children interrupted them when Paul was beating him, when his face was bloodied or he was crying unattractively; he’d always promised them that they were just talking. “I’m absolutely fine, sweetheart, I promise you. Look-” He showed his son his bare arms and the skin around his neck, clean and unbruised. “Look, I’m fine, darling.”

Little fingers touched the patch of skin on his wrist where Freddie had bruised easily when grabbed: he’d worn a perpetual bracelet of purple and blue in that spot, and now it was smudged to only a little yellow. Jim shifted a little so that his son could reach Freddie more easily, and those big green eyes met his Pop’s so quickly; he smiled shyly and lay back down against Jim’s chest when he was certain that his father was safe. “Love you, Pop.” He said quietly. 

“I love you too, little man. Very much.” Jim promised. “I’m looking after your daddy, sweetness, you don’t have to worry about him.”

Xavier looked to Freddie for confirmation, but smiled when Freddie’s warm lips pressed to his forehead. “We’re all being looked after now, sweetheart.” He said with a smile. “You, me and Holly.”

Xavier cast his eyes over to where Holly lay asleep and then closed his eyes again. “Want bath.” He said tiredly. 

Jim carefully curled an arm around his son and lifted him, keeping him tucked close and warm against his chest. He stood up and held a hand out for Freddie, smiling when he stood a little more easily, when it seemed less pained; he led them both into the bathroom and gave Xavier to Freddie as he started the taps. Freddie rocked the little boy, humming mindlessly, and chuckled to himself when Xavier hummed along: he was used to his father singing him to sleep, or humming if they had to be quiet. 

“Daddy.” Xavier touched the apple of Freddie’s cheek when he smiled, and smiled in return. He’d seen more of his father’s smile in the past few weeks than he had for the whole of his time with Paul. “Daddy smile.”

“Daddy’s happy, baby.” Freddie kissed his forehead. 

Holly came running into the bathroom when she heard the taps running. “Me too!” She called out, almost tripping in her haste to get her socks off. Jim caught her quickly and pulled her into his lap, chuckling as he helped her get them off.

“Excited, princess?” He asked fondly, kissing the top of her head.

“Bathtime!” She said excitedly. “Pop, I love bathtime!”

“I know.” Jim chuckled. “It’s time to get you both nice and clean.”

Freddie helped him by putting Xavier in one side of the bath, Holly in the other: the children splashed each other excitedly and Jim couldn’t help but kiss Freddie’s cheek as he watched.

* * *

“Can you explain the development of the relationship between yourself and Mr. Prenter?” James asked, tapping his pencil against the table. “Begin with the night in question.”

“I had seen him on three occasions beforehand, twice within the space of a few weeks and once a few years back. The first time was in the emergency department after a suicide attempt, then when he broke his arm, and then was he was having a severe asthma attack. The fourth time I saw him was when he came in, having been beaten with a belt.” He took a sip of his water, wanting desperately to loosen his collar in the hot room. “And I took over from a junior doctor in order to fulfil the proper safeguarding procedures.”

“What were the safeguarding procedures that you chose to undertake?” He questioned.

“I called a crisis meeting. I recorded the information he gave me on an incident form and then had specialist trauma paediatric nurses check over the children for signs of physical, sexual and emotional abuse. I had a colleague look for places in a domestic violence shelter, and I had a conversation with him regarding prosecution, which he chose not to undertake.” He explained, trying to be as unequivocal as possible.

“And how did that result in him staying in your house? Is that a short term solution?” James scrawled a few notes onto his sheet.

“There was no domestic violence shelter that would accept him because of his gender. He was left with the solution of putting the children in temporary foster homes and returning to his abusive partner, and so I stepped in and said that he could stay in my home until he had sorted himself out somewhere to stay.” He crossed his arms. “All members of the emergency council knew exactly what I was doing.”

He frowned and leaned forward. “And so at that point, there was no suggestion of a relationship between you?”

“Absolutely not.” Jim said immediately. “He’d been staying with me for about a week before we confessed a mutual attraction.”

“At what point did your relationship become sexual?” He asked bluntly.

Jim almost choked on his water. “It hasn’t. It isn’t.” He said quickly. “He’s been sexually assaulted in the past, it wouldn’t be appropriate. I can assure you that our relationship is not grounded on such things.”

James ticked another box on his sheet. “Would you be able to bring Mr. Prenter in to back up your accounts?”

“No.” Jim said immediately, recognising the trick: he lit his cigarette in defiance. “You can contact him as a part of the hearing, and he can decide if he’d like to be a part of this. I don’t make decisions on his behalf.”


	13. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something just clicks and he realises - he can feel again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D

Holly was laughing incessantly, sat on Jim’s chest, wielding an eyeshadow palette and a tube of lip gloss in her little fingers; she painted his face with complete abandon, blue splashed across his cheeks and pink smudged across his eyebrows. Jim didn’t mind in the slightest when she daubed strawberry lip gloss across his teeth, looking as though every one of her Christmases had come at once: he was happy to see her so delighted, enjoying herself so much.

“Pop-” She giggled. “Pop, purple or green?”

Jim tickled her sides playfully, holding her safe against him. “What about both?” He suggested. 

“Both!” She nodded excitedly. “Purple here-” She bopped her finger against the end of his nose. “Green here!” She traced the outward curve of his ear, painting him into some psychedelic rainbow. 

“What are you doing, darling?” Freddie asked as he came into the lounge, balancing a teapot, mugs and a glass of milk each for the children on a tray. “Oh, your poor Pop!”

“Pop is very pretty.” Holly informed him, painting some bright yellow on his forehead. 

Freddie curled up instinctively next to Jim, fingers clasped tight around his mug. His cheeks warmed as soft fingers touched his jawline, encouraging him into the softest, most gentle kiss: no experience of love had ever been like this before, so light and sweet, so feeling like home. Freddie let himself be lost in it, closing his eyes and relaxing in the touches of the man he loved endlessly.

“You’re cuddly tonight.” Jim wrapped an arm around him when he rested his head against his chest. “Everything okay?”

Freddie looked up at him and smiled; Holly was poised with lip gloss, but waited until Jim was ready to keep playing with her, and his son was asleep on the sofa next to him. He’d never felt he could trust someone so much with his children and himself. “I’m really happy.” He said honestly. “I just- I feel very relaxed.”

Jim pecked the top of his head and smiled. “I’m glad this whole thing isn’t stressing you out, darling.” He hummed. “Thank you for letting me look after you.”

Freddie traced a heart on his side and pulled a blanket over them both. “Thank you for looking after all of us.” He replied. He’d spent so long being convinced that he wasn’t allowed to feel like this, like it was wrong and dirty and sinful to be reliant on somebody else; he’d felt for so long as though he was isolated from the rest of the world, cut off from everybody he loved, even at a careful arm’s distance from his children. He’d been cold, tired, hungry, bruised, broken - and now he felt whole again.

There was a time he would never have dreamed of watching this - Holly smearing pink lip gloss not only on Jim’s lips but also in the hair of his moustache, and Jim laughing as she did so - and would never have dreamed of being this close to the scene. There was a time he would’ve perched on the edge of the sofa on a good day, and stood by the lounge door the rest of the time, listening to his husband forcing the children to converse or play with him: he would never have dreamed of the playful messiness of makeup, a warm blanket draped over his shoulders and an arm tight around his waist, stomach full from dinner, happy and healthy and healing.

But he was.

“Daddy?” Holly said quietly. “Daddy, why are you sad?”

Freddie touched his cheeks and his fingers came back wet; he was so overwhelmed by the strength of his emotions, emotions he had suppressed for so long, and he couldn’t believe he was allowed to experience them again. “I’m not sad, sweetheart.” He rubbed his eyes quickly and smiled bashfully. “Sometimes people cry when they’re happy.”

“Oh, darling-” Jim carefully moved Holly so that he could wrap Freddie close and tight in his arms. “Are you okay?”

Freddie wrapped his arms around Jim’s neck and tucked his face into the crook between his shoulder and his jawline. “I’m so okay.” He promised, though his voice trembled. “I’m just- I love you so much, I can’t- I can’t believe this is real, this is my life, I’m okay, we’re safe, it’s all so-”

“Overwhelming?” Jim kissed his temple, rubbing his back gently. “My darling, this is your life, now. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

Freddie smiled and squeezed him tightly. “I’ve changed.” He murmured. “I’ve changed, I’ve changed so much, I- I can’t believe I’ve changed.”

“Once upon a time, you wouldn’t even cuddle with me.” Jim peppered kisses over his smiling cheeks and chuckled. “Now look at you.” He hauled Freddie into his lap and kissed his forehead and the end of his nose; Freddie knelt and let himself rest chest to chest with his lover.

“I love you.” Freddie said softly. “I- I didn’t realise love could be like this.”

“It can be. It is.” Jim tilted his chin up and kissed him again. “Welcome to love, baby. I love you.”

* * *

Freddie twiddled his fingers, fiddling with the cufflinks that Jim had let him borrow; the shirt was a size too big, pinned at the waist. He smoothed his finger over each nail in turn, chewing on his lip, trying to listen to all the questions that were being thrown his way; there were so many, too many, obligations he couldn’t hope to fulfil, everything bombarded at him, frantic, desperate-

“Freddie?” James leaned forward; Freddie’s fingers twitched on his inhaler, a nervous comfort, his chest feeling tight. “Freddie, can you answer that question?”

“What was it?” He asked shyly, glancing up from where he’d been staring at his hands.

“On the night of the fifteenth of August, what were your options regarding returning home?” He asked, voice far more gentle than when he had been speaking to Jim.

“I-” Freddie stammered, taking a breath of his inhaler when his chest became painful. “I didn’t have any options. I was going to put the children into temporary foster care and return home because he was getting increasingly more violent towards them and I didn’t feel it was safe to keep them there any longer.”

“But you were happy to return yourself?” He asked.

“I can put up with anything.” Freddie replied shyly. “I had no money, it was return home or do something untoward for money, and I didn’t want to- to sell myself out like that.”

“And how did Jim play into this equation?” James jotted down a note on his paper and looked back up.

“Jim offered me his sofa bed for the night, free of charge. It was the only option I had where I could keep my children without putting them in danger.” He felt strange and empty here without his children; he suddenly wanted a restless Xavier or excitable Holly to take his mind from things.

“And how come you’re still staying there now?”

“I fell in love with him.” Freddie’s cheeks coloured. “It was supposed to be a short term solution, and he is helping to support me and the children while I get a job, but we- we admitted that we loved each other after about a week. He said that he’d help me out no matter what, but I thought- I thought it might be time for a change. I’d spent so long being hurt by people that were supposed to love me, and I wondered if it could be a little different this time.”

“Has he ever used anything against you?” James tried for his kindest smile. “Because he has significant physical and financial power over you, doesn’t he?”

“He’s never tried to do anything.” Freddie said, completely genuine. “He’s supported me through rehabilitation and applying for a job at a dance company, he’s kept us all fed and clothed and warm while I’m still sorting myself out. He’s adamant that he doesn’t hold any power or control over me, he gives me freedom and flexibility and money that I can choose how to spend.”

“At what point did your relationship with Jim become sexual? Have you ever used that as a way to repay him for anything?”

Freddie mouthed momentarily, his cheeks scorching scarlet. “It hasn’t.” He said quietly. “He’s- he’s never asked anything like that from me. We’ve kissed, but it- that’s as far as we’ve ever gone. He’s never expected sex and I’ve never felt like I have to give him anything like that.”

He nodded. “At any point, Freddie, any point at all, has Jim ever made you feel uncomfortable or frightened? Especially within the hospital, has he ever made you feel as though you were singled out, isolated, and unable to ask for help?”

Freddie shook his head adamantly. “I’m happier now than I ever remember being.” He admitted shyly. “I felt like he was the first person that cared about how I was, instead of just patching me up and sending me on my way. He was the first person that asked me to be honest with him, and he was the first person who created a space where I felt I could reach out. He took time with me, he listened to me, and-” He paused and chewed on his lip. “I’m talking too much, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, absolutely not!” James promised. “Please finish what you were going to say.”

He smiled shyly. “He’s a wonderful doctor, and he’s a wonderful father, and he’s a wonderful boyfriend. I don’t have any complaint in the world against him.”

* * *

Jim wrapped an arm around his waist as he came into the room; he was a week post-surgery, his posture was almost back to normal, and he was quickly becoming used to using his feeding tube throughout the night. “How was your first day, pretty boy?” Jim leaned down and pecked his lips playfully.

Freddie’s cheeks suffused with pink and he caught Jim’s lips in another kiss. “It was so good.” He admitted. “A lady let me sit down on the tube because I was a bit unsteady on my feet and we did some hydrotherapy and then some core exercises to help strengthen everything back up. Jacqui said that I could get the shoes back on in a week if everything goes to plan.”

“Darling, that’s such good news!” Jim kissed his forehead and smiled. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“The building is just beautiful. It’s all marble and glass, and part of the gym is outside so you don’t end up getting really hot. I bought some lunch in the staff canteen and I was talking to these other dancers that I’ve looked up to for years and it’s all so bizarre that I get to be there for at least a few weeks.” He smiled bashfully. “They really made it feel like home for me. I’ve got a locker and a weekly massage therapy spot and everything.”

“That’s incredible.” Jim handed him a mug of tea that he’d had boiling before he came in and smiled. “Well, the kids have been just wonderful. Our son is quite the artist, it turns out, he’s done a wonderful drawing of all of us. He wanted me to write all our names next to them so we would all be able to remember.” He chuckled. “Sometimes I forget how little he is.”

“He’s still a baby, really.” Freddie glanced into the lounge and smiled at the sight of his children building towers together. “He’s quite developed, honestly, because he can already make fairly understandable sentences, but at the same time he still enjoys it when I put milk in a bottle and feed him like when he was little. He’s just exploring the world at his own pace.”

“I’ve really loved spending time with them today.” Jim smiled. “Speaking of which, darling, I’ve had some good news today.”

Freddie perked up as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “Good news?” He asked curiously.

“My transfer to paediatric emergency has been approved. I’m officially back to work on Monday.” He smiled. “Whatever you said to them, darling, they loved. They’ve dropped the complaint against me. And, even better-” He took a sip of his tea. “I’m working eight-hour shifts, seven until three in the afternoon. I got the family shifts. I’ll be home every night for you and our gorgeous little ones.”

“Every night?” Freddie asked incredulously.

“Every night.” Jim kissed him, indulging in the taste of coffee on his lips. “You’re my family now, baby, and I’m not going anywhere.”


	14. Silver Stained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed to have come out of the blue, but when he looked back, he could see the signs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: self harm (nothing graphic - more discussions around it and prevention)

Freddie coughed, deep and wet and painful, and pulled the blanket up over his head. “Freddie?” Jim asked softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Freddie, baby, are you okay?”

He grumbled a little, trying to put off the inevitable task of getting up and getting the children for nursery. “I’m alright.” He murmured, curling in on himself as aching shot through his muscles.

“Are you?” Jim rubbed his lower back gently. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m just-” Freddie hauled himself up into a sitting position, wincing as he did so. “Achy.”

Jim frowned and knelt beside him, resting a hand on his forehead. “You’re really hot.” He murmured. “Do you feel hot?”

“Kinda- hot and cold at the same time.” He rubbed a hand across his bare arm as goosebumps raised over his skin. “What do you think it is?”

“Oh, sweetheart-” Jim leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You should go and see the doctor. You might have the flu.”

“Can’t you get me some tablets or something?” Freddie asked tiredly. “Please?”

“No, darling.” He squeezed Freddie’s hand. “The flu can be nasty if you have asthma, I wouldn’t want to prescribe you the wrong thing. I’d rather you got a proper exam and the doctor could be sure.” 

* * *

He’d intended to do something much worse with the knife, but it had still cut through his skin like butter when he’d squeezed it, leaving a deep, red line through the palm. He sat on the bathroom floor, watching the blood drip onto the floor, questioning why he’d done this again- what had he expected, really, it to look purple or blue or green or orange, something to show he wasn’t right, something to prove that he was sick as the sickest fucking dog and worth less-

“Jim?” He called out, barely recognising the voice as his own. He couldn’t pinpoint his place in the world, where his boyfriend or his children were, what time it was, what he needed to be doing: his whole world was reduced to this, this internal pain made external, shame and guilt.

“Are you okay, darling?” Jim knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

“I-” Freddie’s cheeks were burning with shame. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen back into old habits so easily when he’d been trying to prove he was okay, he was getting better, but he wasn’t, and he never would.

Jim pushed the door open quietly and almost froze at the sight of Freddie. “Oh, baby-” He sat opposite him and reached for his hand. “Let me see, sweetness.”

Freddie flinched away from his touch. “You shouldn’t touch me.” He said quietly. 

Jim frowned. “Darling, that’s deep, you’ll need stitches.” He softened his voice as though he were talking to a scared child. “Did you do that?” He reached again for his hand, but Freddie snatched it back.

“I said don’t!” He looked so frightened, a deer caught in the headlights, and he stood up, caught between Jim and the bathtub. 

“Okay, darling.” Jim held out his hands in a position of surrender. “Why do you feel like that?”

Freddie’s lower lip trembled and he looked down at his hand again. “I’m ruined.” He mumbled.

“Why are you ruined?” He kept the same soft voice, trying to be as approachable as possible.

“I-” The tears spilled over and he covered his face, smearing the blood even further. “I got it.”

“Got what, sweetness?” Jim rested a hand lightly on his leg, counting it as a win when Freddie didn’t push him away.

“HIV.” He said quietly. “I’m positive.”

Freddie was taken aback by Jim’s instant reaction, which was to sweep him into the closest, warmest, tightest hug he’d ever been a part of; he had expected something far worse, to be kicked out or yelled at or called disgusting. “Darling, you’re not ruined.” Jim kissed his forehead. “Is that why you don’t want me to touch your hand?”

Freddie nodded miserably, holding his hand close to his chest. “I feel so stupid.” He mumbled. “I feel- I feel so dirty.”

“You’re not dirty at all.” Jim promised, sitting back a little and finally taking his hand. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“No I’m not.” Freddie covered his face with his free hand, shoulders shaking as he cried. “I’ve got what, five years to live?”

Jim frowned. “Did they say you had AIDS?” He checked. “Or HIV?”

“HIV.” Freddie murmured, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“HIV won’t kill you, darling. You can have treatment for HIV that means you can live a pretty normal life.” Jim was thankful in that moment that he knew enough about it. “If you haven’t developed AIDS, then you can be treated.”

Freddie sniffed miserably. “How am I supposed to live a normal life when I might get sick any time?”

Jim took a deep breath, and then looked back up at Freddie’s face. “I’m positive.” He told him. “Diagnosed three years ago. And I still have a job, and a family, and friends, and a life expectancy of eighty. I promise you, it’s not a death sentence.”

Freddie faltered for a second. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “If we ever got sexual, I suppose. But I’m on treatment that reduces my viral load to an undetectable level, which means I can’t pass it on to other people, so I only tell people when they need to know.”

Freddie uncurled the palm of his hand, finally letting Jim touch where he’d cut. “Do you have AIDS?” He asked.

“No.” Jim pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Because mine was caught early, like yours. So I take a couple of tablets every day, and they stop me from getting it, and I keep living my life.” He stood up quickly. “I’m just going to grab my bag so that I can stitch your hand, sweetheart.”

Freddie sat still until Jim returned and held out his hand. “I just feel so numb.” He said quietly.

“It’s the worst kind of shock.” Jim carefully cleaned his hands before he started cleaning around Freddie’s wound. “It feels like your whole life changes in that one moment. But it doesn’t have to, darling, not really. You might change little things, but you don’t have to give up on your dreams.”

“How did your life change?” He asked, barely even flinching as Jim pushed the first needle through his skin.

“Well-” Jim changed where he was sitting so the light hit Freddie’s hand at a better angle. “For me, it was a little bigger, because I work in medicine. I had to stop working for a few months until I got my load down to undetectable because otherwise I could risk passing it on to patients. But most people don’t have to stop working, because there’s no risk they can pass it on. The only way you can pass it on is through blood or through sex, and there was the possibility I could have blood contact with an emergency patient.”

Jim was the first person Freddie had ever heard who didn’t sensationalise the illness; he wasn’t Diana, shaking hands without gloves, but he was simple, grounding. “But what about the rest of your life?” He asked quietly.

“I chose not to go out as much.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to risk passing it on to anybody while I was on first treatment, and then I realised-” He smiled a little. “I’m a bit old for that, you know? I fell out of love with living hard and fast. I bought the boat, and I phoned my dad on Sundays, and I held dinner parties for my friends, and I’m happier now than I was before I was diagnosed.”

For the first time, Freddie felt as though he could manage a little smile. “You’re happier now?”

“So much happier.” Jim glanced up from his work and smiled warmly. “Because I have a lovely place to live, I’ve got friends that always want to go out or buy pizza or whatever, and now I get the luxury of coming home to sleepy little faces and a man that I love very much.”

Freddie flexed his fingers when Jim finished the stitches. “Thank you.” He said quietly. “I think I just got hopeless, I thought- I thought I was giving up everything.”

“You don’t have to give up anything.” Jim promised. “You don’t have to give up me, or the children, or the ballet, or anything. I love you no matter what.” He kissed his wrist gently. “Please don’t hurt yourself, darling.”

“I’m sorry.” Freddie murmured. “I think- I think I’m struggling. With everything that happened, how it made me feel, I’m- I’m living two lives, one where I’m happy with you and the other where I still feel so isolated from the rest of the world.”

Jim sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I can understand that.” He kissed Freddie’s temple. “Can I help at all?”

“I don’t know.” Freddie admitted. “It’s like- it’s whenever I slow down. When I’m playing with the children or dancing or cooking or cleaning or- or doing something, I can put all those feelings to the back of my mind because I feel useful. But when I’m not doing anything, it all just comes creeping in and everything feels so dark.”

Jim rubbed his back comfortingly. “I want to help you out, sweetness. I think you’re keeping everything so cooped up that you’re struggling through all of it on your own, you’re keeping up such a brave face. It’s okay to let go.” He pecked his cheek lightly. “I think you could do with seeing a trauma specialist, someone who can teach you how to cope. They might want to put you on medication for a while, darling, but it might help up here.” He tapped Freddie’s head.

“Will they make me happier?” He asked, sounding so small and so vulnerable.

“It might not be happier.” He acquiesced. “But it can just be a little more stable. It means that you’ll feel like you can cope with everything a little better.”

He nodded, resting his head on Jim’s shoulder. “I didn’t think it affected me that badly.” He admitted. “I thought I was fine, I thought I’d just get out of there and get on with my life and I’d just put it behind me like anyone else that splits up from their partner. Since I’ve left, I just- everything’s so scary.” He whispered. “I have to make so many decisions for the little ones and for myself and I’m not used to any of it, I wish that I didn’t have to do any of it, it used to be so much easier.”

Jim rubbed his arm lightly. “You’re doing so well, though.” He praised. “It’s such a big transition but you’re really going for it, you’re absolutely trying your best and no one is going to be annoyed with you if you ever find it difficult.”

“I feel bad for sponging off of you.” He admitted. “When I was telling all those doctors about you, it made me realise how much you’ve done for me, and I- I don’t feel like I’m giving you anything back.”

“Absolutely don’t feel bad about me.” Jim squeezed him a little. “Darling, just having you and the children here is enough payment for me, any day of the week. The money I spend on you would just be put into savings anyway, and I would much rather see our family healthy, clean and provided for than have some pointless amount tucked away for a rainy day.”

Freddie sniffed and nodded. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I promise you. I told you, as long as you need to stay with me, as long as you need to get back on your feet, even if you find that you don’t love me.” He promised.

“I do love you.” Freddie murmured. “I do, I really do.”

Jim smiled and leaned in, gently touching his lips to Freddie’s. “I love you too.”

* * *

Freddie lay back on the floor, shoulders touching the cold ground, legs tucked underneath himself: his quads ached unimaginably, but he was determined to push through the pain. “You-” He heard a voice in the background and looked over at the door to the studio. “You must be Mr. Prenter. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Freddie hated the use of his married name, but he tried to pass it off as conventional politeness. “Call me Freddie, please.” He stood up quickly and held out a hand.

“Freddie.” She shook his hand. “Aspiring ballet dancer, I hear?”

“Yes.” He agreed, cheeks warming with the blush of shyness. “I’m doing some rehabilitative training before I audition.”

She nodded. “I’m Olga, one of the senior ballet masters.” She smiled. “What’s the injury?”

“Severed stomach muscle.” Freddie rested his hand over it instinctively.

“That’s an unusual one.” She commented. “How’s the training been so far?”

“Wonderful.” Freddie admitted with a shy smile. “I’ve really enjoyed it. I’m certainly the best dancer I’ve ever been right now.”

“You’re coming to the profession quite late, why’s that?” She asked, handing him a coffee she’d brought with her.

“I-” Freddie faltered, but he forced himself to tell the truth: part of healing was accepting what had happened. “I was in a controlling relationship, and I was stopped from auditioning. It took me a very long time to leave.”

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m glad you’ve come to us.” She smiled. “You know, I’m so used to working with young guys, it’s refreshing to have someone a little more mature. A lot of the young guys tend to mess around, drink too much, get themselves in trouble somehow, they don’t realise the opportunity they’ve been given, but to still be dancing at your age, you have to take good care of yourself.”

Freddie smiled. “I can only thank you all for giving me the opportunity even though I’m late.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” She squeezed his shoulder. “Why don’t we do a bit of practice together? I’d like to see where you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, ladies and gentlemen, I have managed to come down with bronchitis, conjunctivitis and otitis media (go big or go home, I guess), which may mean more uploads (boredom) or less uploads (general illness) - who knows?


	15. Baby Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's trying, he's trying so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to read the last chapter before this one otherwise this may seem a little non-sequitur!

He felt ridiculous, really, holding one of Holly’s blankets - he was the adult, he was the father, he was the one that was supposed to give her these loveys, not to use them himself. It was just the idea of going to a new place, talking to someone completely new about the darkest points of his life, that had left him seeking comfort. He’d found a pile of clothes at the back of Jim’s wardrobe, far too big for the both of them, but they smelled like home: he’d put on one of those sweaters to cover his shaking hands, but he’d still found himself picking up a little blanket to take with him regardless.

“What would you like to talk about?” Harvey asked, smiling kindly at Freddie. He liked her already, found her strangely comforting: she looked how he imagined an older Holly would look, dark hair pinned back in ringlets and lips glossed the prettiest salmon-pink, and spoke in the softest tone of voice, working so hard to make him feel comfortable.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, fingers running over the silk of the blanket. “I haven’t really thought all this through.”

“That’s okay!” She insisted. “We could talk about your childhood, anything that’s troubling you, anything that you’ve been through, or we can talk about here and now.”

Freddie paused. “Isn’t talking about now a waste of time?” He asked shyly.

“It’s not if we want to work out things that make you happy.” She promised. “Why don’t you tell me about your family?”

“My family.” Freddie echoed: Harvey could see that he instinctively softened, became less defensive. “Well, I- I have two children, a son and a daughter, and I’ve got a boyfriend, and there’s my mum and dad and my sister, too, they come and visit me a lot.”

“Do you like having kids?” She asked, putting her paper aside and taking the time to listen to him.

“I love them.” He smiled shyly. “They- they keep me grounded, really. I like having them to look after, I feel like I can really make a difference and help them. They make me feel a lot less alone.”

“Do you feel alone a lot?” She questioned.

Freddie faltered for a moment and then nodded. “I don’t really have any friends.” He admitted. “I’ve got my family and my boyfriend, but if he ever wants to go out with his friends then I feel- I feel pretty lonely. I haven’t really had friends since I was a teenager.”

“How could you make some friends now?” She smiled at him. “What kind of things could you have in common with people?”

Freddie surreptitiously rested his nose on his sleeve, taking in the scent of his home, something familiar and comforting. “I like music.” He said after a while. “I like to sing and I can play the piano.”

“Oh, London is such a good place to enjoy music!” She smiled. “You could go to some local shows and see if you can meet people there. Maybe you could even see if you could join a band, something like that.” She saw the look of fear on his face and backtracked a little. “A little at a time, of course. I’m sure you could take your boyfriend to a show or two.”

* * *

He hadn’t cleaned until his arms ached in a long while, but he was aware that between therapy and ballet classes, he’d gotten behind on laundry. He sat on the floor of the laundrette, patiently folding sleepsuits and lycra, dividing what could go in the dryer and what couldn’t. Over the past few days, the past few sessions, he was beginning to feel a little more in control, a little more there - they hadn’t started talking about the crux of the problem yet, but they’d been talking about things that made him happy, things that made him feel a little more settled.

Maybe that was why he found himself singing. 

His voice had been unused for so long; it was rich and powerful, and it was so unlike the state he’d been reduced to - meek, powerless, acquiescing. It was nice, though, to have something to fill the air, fill the silence, and something to be proud of, a part of his outlandish, confident personality that he was once filled with. 

He looked up quickly when he heard the click of the machine beside him: a man smiled at him, and Freddie was momentarily taken aback. If he wasn’t already very much in love, he could’ve mistaken the man for possibly one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen - blonde hair, blue eyes, the embodiment of a cherub. “Nice voice.” He complimented, and Freddie’s cheeks warmed instinctively.

“Thank you.” He replied shyly. “I’m just- just passing the time, I guess.”

“Oh, I agree!” He grinned. “I fucking hate laundry, it’s a waste of time, but my flatmate threatened to kick me out if I didn’t start pulling my weight.” He laughed and stuck out his hand. “I’m Roger, Roger Taylor.”

“Freddie-” He started, and a jolt of rebellion came through him. He was talking to new people, he was holding his own, and he didn’t have to be tied to a past he didn’t want any longer. He didn’t have to be a Prenter anymore. “Freddie Mercury.” The surname was spontaneous, but it felt right, somehow.

Roger pushed a few coins into the machine and then sat on the bench opposite him, crossing his legs. “Do you sing a lot?” He questioned.

“Not really.” Freddie admitted. “I’m getting back into it.”

“After the-” Roger gestured at his nose, and Freddie became acutely aware that he’d just haphazardly tucked his tube behind his ear when it had gotten in his way. “That’s probably insensitive, sorry-”

“No!” He said quickly. “No, I mean, it’s fine. It’s better to ask than assume.” He put the dress he’d been folding to the side and sat facing Roger instead. “I had to have some stitches in my stomach, I’m not sick or anything. It’ll come out in a week or two.”

Roger nodded and smiled. “So how come you weren’t singing?”

“Just didn’t have time.” He said judiciously. 

“Listen, do you-” Roger paused and smiled. “Do you have much to do this afternoon? Because my flatmate and I, we’re messing around, trying to get a band together, and you could come and sing with us if you wanted to.”

“I’d love that.” Freddie said boldly; it was what Harvey had been saying, he had to put himself out more, try new things. “I need to go at three, though, my kids are at nursery.”

“No problem.” He grinned. “I live around the corner, we’ll only take a couple hours.”

* * *

Freddie trailed his fingers over the piano and smiled. “She’s beautiful.” He murmured.

“She’s Bri’s prized possession, after his guitar. He doesn’t play her so much, though, he’s more into rock’n’roll guitar solos.” Roger smiled. “Do you play?”

“Not especially well.” He pressed down a few chords. “I haven’t in a long time.”

“Can I get you a drink?” He offered. “Tea, coffee, water, orange juice, beer, champagne. Take your pick.”

Freddie smiled. “I’ll take tea, thank you.”

“Who’s home?” Brian called out, rubbing a towel through his hair as he wandered into the lounge. “Is Deaky here?”

“No, I’ve-” Roger started, looking over to see Freddie and Brian staring at one another. “Oh my God, go put your clothes on.”

“I didn’t- I’ll be back-” He clutched at the towel as he ran from the room and Freddie smiled awkwardly over at Roger.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” He asked shyly.

“Oh, no!” Roger smiled and handed him a mug of tea. “He’s just awkward, don’t mind him. He’s got a date later and he has to spend at least half the day preparing for it.”

Freddie chuckled. “So what do you play in the band?”

“I’m a drummer.” Roger flexed his wrists and picked up two pencils from the table, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh. “I’ve been singing while we’ve been down a singer, but it’s kind of hard to do both at the same time. Without a drummer, your band falls apart, but I’m just not- not enough of a performer to be a singer full time.”

“A performer.” Freddie echoed, thinking of his dreams of stage lights and ballet shoes. “I guess you’re right, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Your kind of thing?” He asked with a smile.

“I suppose.” Freddie smiled. “I’m- I’m trying to make it as a dancer. I guess I’ve always liked the pull of the stage.”

“If we get on well, you should come up and do some gigs with us. See if the rush of the stage is the same.” Roger grinned. “Now, play for me, I want to hear you.”

* * *

The first time Freddie had flinched away from him, Jim had felt hurt, almost upset - he felt as though Freddie was rejecting him, his affections, his attempts to be a boyfriend. He’d almost grown accustomed, now, to feeling him jump from the smallest of touches, flinching away from gentle fingers in his hair or kisses to his cheek or arms around his waist. It was something psychologically hardwired into him, fright and desperation to keep himself and the children protected.

This time, though, he came home to Freddie stood in his kitchen and for the first time, Freddie smiled when he heard keys land in the dish by the door and felt arms around his waist. “Hello, darling.” Jim stood on his toes to kiss him softly. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” He turned around in his lover’s arms and hugged him closely. “I made some new friends today.”

“Did you do anything nice?” He ran his fingers through Freddie’s hair.

“I was just doing some laundry and I ended up in some guy’s dining room singing for his band.” Freddie smiled and let his eyes close momentarily as Jim traced his thumb over his cheekbone. “It was really good fun, actually.”

Jim pressed their lips together ever-so-gently and kissed him slowly, warm and safe and loving. “I’m glad you had fun, darling.” He smiled. “I never knew you enjoyed singing.”

“I was talking about it with Harvey, she suggested I might enjoy being a part of a band.” He rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “Just a way to start mixing with some new people.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Jim agreed. “Where’s the little ones?”

“Xavier’s painting.” Freddie smiled. “Holly was doing some colouring last time I checked on her. I bought her a new colouring book and she’s enjoying it a lot.” He ran a hand down Jim’s chest, coming to rest on his stomach, and kissed his cheek. “How was your day?”

“It was pretty good.” Jim agreed, putting his bag down on the table. “Children’s emergency is massively one way or another, it turns out. It’s overprotective mothers bringing in little ones with sore throats, kids getting things stuck in their ears or their noses, or it turns completely upside down and you get kids that have been hit by cars or have fallen off horses or something. It’s really polar opposites, you have to be ready to change in an instant.” He sat on the counter and reached over to flick the kettle on. “I like it, though. You have to be a bit more gentle, a bit more sensitive, and you don’t get punched as much.”

Freddie got two mugs from the cupboard and handed them to him. “Why more gentle?” He questioned.

“You get a lot of frightened and upset parents that you have to reassure. A lot of people like to ask if I have kids too, I think they try to find something in common to help themselves. I get to talk about the kids all the time.” He smiled. “I was talking to one of the other consultants, though, and I might be splitting my time between emergency and children’s. They don’t have enough doctors with specialisms in mental health and drug abuse in emergency, and that’s what I originally specialised in.”

“Would you be okay with that?” He questioned as Jim poured the water into the mugs.

“I love emergency.” He nodded. “Children’s doesn’t have quite the same buzz to it, really, kids don’t tend to hurt themselves in the same way. Babies don’t get suffocated as often as grown men overdose. It’s like the best of both worlds, you spend some time with babies and some time saving people that have been in awful situations.”

Freddie added milk and then took his mug, sipping it despite the steam billowing in his face. “I feel really safe with a doctor for a boyfriend.” He smiled despite himself. “Just- anything happens, and you know what to do. It’s comforting.”

Jim kissed him, lips warm from the tea. “And I feel incredibly loved, having a boyfriend that wants to look after me as much as you do.” He pecked his lips once more and smiled. “And a boyfriend who’s such a good daddy.”

* * *

“Pop?” Holly looked small and sleepy in her sleepsuit, her hair still damp from her bath, dragging her blanket behind her. It was late, long after her bedtime, and Freddie had gone for a shower in the quiet of the evening; she’d woken frightened, and she wanted comfort. “Pop?” She asked again, lower lip trembling.

Jim had been dozing on the sofa, mindlessly watching something on the television, but his eyes snapped open when he heard a little voice. “Holly?” He asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. “Are you okay, darling?”

She shook her head with a little whimper, holding her arms out for her father. Jim picked her up and lay back, letting her cuddle up to his chest, and brought the blanket up over the both of them to keep her warm. “What’s the matter, sweetness?” He asked gently. 

“Dream.” She murmured, little fists tight in Jim’s shirt. “Saw Papa.”

“Oh, darling.” He murmured, rubbing her back. “You’re safe now, sweetheart, Pop and Daddy are going to look after you forever and ever.” He promised. “Everything’s going to be okay now.”

“Is Daddy okay?” She asked, big eyes looking up at Jim as though he was the one safe, grounding presence in her life.

“You know that Papa used to hurt Daddy.” Jim wanted to be completely honest with her, and that involved telling her everything in ways that she could comprehend. “And Daddy was sad about that for a long time. And now, Daddy is getting better and he’s getting happier.” He told her. “It’s like when you hurt your finger and it gets better, but it’s in his head.”

She nodded and closed her tired eyes. “Love you.” She murmured.

Freddie stepped into the room, still damp from the shower, and smiled at the sight of his little girl and his boyfriend cuddled up together. He sat beside his boyfriend and curled up, stroking his fingers through Holly’s hair. “Are you sleepy, princess?” He asked softly.

Big, brown eyes met his and she smiled sleepily. “Yes.” She whispered. “Want Pop.”

“Me too.” Freddie rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “I think we just need some quiet time, little one, don’t we?”

She nodded, resting her head on Jim’s chest and reaching out for Freddie’s hand. He slipped his hand under the blanket and rested it on her back, feeling the baby-warmth of her skin under his palm. “I love you.” Jim kissed her forehead and then turned to Freddie. “And I love you, too.” 

Freddie smiled tiredly and closed his eyes. “I love you.” He echoed.


	16. Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's ups and downs, normality and the extraordinary.

Jim leaned on the counter and glanced at what Harvey was working on. “You said you wanted a chat, Harv?” He offered her a coffee that he’d picked up on his way and glanced down at himself. “I’m on break, I didn’t have time to change.” He murmured apologetically.

“It’s no worries, turquoise suits you.” She joked and took the cup from his hand. “No one ever looks good in scrubs.”

“It’s functional.” He shrugged and sat beside her. “It’s the third pair today, it’s been quite the shift.”

She whistled and put her papers to the side. “I just wanted to chat about Freddie, really. I talked to him about this, he knows we’re having this conversation, we both thought it would be good to keep you in the loop. He just doesn’t quite know how to describe everything that’s happening right now, but he wants you to know because then you can support him.”

“Absolutely.” He agreed, sipping his coffee. “Was it your idea?”

“His, actually. Because he stills feels an element of embarrassment related to his feelings, but he knows that you’re trained to understand what he’s going through. He thought I could maybe have an easier conversation with you.” She explained.

“That’s good.” He smiled. “So what’s your thoughts?”

“There’s some obvious hints at PTSD.” She sipped her coffee and looked over her notes. “Which we might catch early enough to help him deal with. Otherwise, panic disorder, generalised anxiety, some hints at depression, but that might be alleviated as he reintegrates.” She hummed. “Have you discussed medication with him? I thought I’d bring it up next time.”

“He seems happy enough to try it.” He crossed his legs and propped them up on the desk. “I had the whole discussion around happiness versus balance, and I think he understood that.”

“Okay, that’s great.” She agreed. “Has he talked much to you about his physical health?”

_ Freddie lay back on the sofa, eyes closed, curled in on himself; his stomach was hurting and he had little energy to do more than breathe. He covered his head with a blanket when the phone rang, but forced himself up when it rang a second time, and then a third. _

_ “Hello?” He answered, sitting on the floor of the hallway; the boat rocked beneath him and his eyes closed heavily once again. _

_ “Freddie Mercury.” The voice that came back was low, mocking, teasing. “You don’t need to speak, my love, you just need to listen to me. I’ve missed you terribly, and I want to see you.” _

_ “I-” Freddie sounded so vulnerable, so small. “I don’t want to see you.” _

_ “That’s a shame.” He replied, sounding bored. “Because you’re going to meet me at the Devonshire at eight, and you’re going to bring the kids, and you’re going to come home tonight with me.” _

_ “I don’t want to.” Freddie replied again, eyes brimming with tears. _

_ “I know that you think you’ve made a life for yourself.” He mocked. “With the doctor boyfriend and the nice houseboat. But if you don’t come tonight, you won’t be seeing him again anyway.” _

“Not really.” Jim frowned. “Why, is the physical side getting worse?”

“He was talking about some pain and some sickness. I didn’t know if he’d mentioned it to you, but it sounds like it might be worth mentioning to gastro.” She explained. “I mean, I work in psych and it’s been a good few years since I worked in general medicine, but it doesn’t sound good.”

“I mean, it depends on the severity. I think things like that are fine if it’s just a little, because he’s healing.” Jim mused. “But he’s got an appointment to see the doctor on gastro at the end of the week, so I’m sure he’ll bring it up then.”

* * *

Jim could tell Freddie wasn’t feeling himself that day; he was curled up, practically in Jim’s lap, warm cheek pressed to his collarbone. “Are you feeling okay, darling?” He asked, hands sweeping Freddie’s side. “You’d tell me if you weren’t well, wouldn’t you?”

Freddie nodded and closed his eyes. “I feel a bit sick.” He murmured. “I haven’t eaten, but I’ve done a double feed instead.”

Jim kissed the top of his head. “I think you need to take it a little easier. Why don’t we snuggle down tonight, you don’t have to worry about anything, I’ll sort out the dinner and the little ones.” He rubbed Freddie’s back. “We’ll get a nice, early night, maybe take a bath together.”

“I have to go out.” Freddie rubbed his eyes. “The boys wanted to do something with the band, I thought you wouldn’t mind. I might be back late.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” Jim said softly; he wanted to make it clear that Freddie could make his own decisions. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?”

Freddie just nodded tiredly. “I haven’t got classes tomorrow because the hospital appointment is supposed to last hours, and I can sleep in a bit later.”

“Okay, darling, okay.” He said soothingly. “I can look after the little ones.”

“Thank you.” Freddie curled up smaller against him, taking all the comfort he could find in Jim’s warm skin against his own. 

* * *

It was two, three, four in the morning and his hands were shaking so badly that he scratched the end of the key over the freshly painted door when he tried to unlock it. It was dark outside, and it was freezing cold, and he’d deliberately tried to wear something as unprovocative as possible - a fucking tracksuit, a jumper, he’d tried so hard to look bland and boring and undesirable - but it was still stained red and white and everything in between-

He’d walked three miles in the rain and at some point he’d started crying, but he wasn’t sure when or where he was; three miles for a half a mile journey because he was lost and cold and in pain. He dropped his keys on the floor and kicked off his wet shoes, shivering through to the bone.

“Freddie?” Jim called up the stairs; he’d been sleeping badly, unjustly worried about his lover when an eight o’clock meeting had spilled into the early hours of the morning. “Freddie, darling, are you home?”

He came up the stairs to see his lover, shaking and tear-stained and bloodied, and he immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up.” He murmured. 

Freddie was thankful that he didn’t ask questions. “I- I-” He stammered, letting himself be led into the bathroom.

“It’s okay.” Jim kissed his forehead. “I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you. Was it anything to do with those guys you met?”

Freddie shook his head and let Jim take off his wet clothes; he was immediately bundled into a warm sweater and a blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. “I’m going to warm you up first, darling, then I’ll have a look at your nose. Does anything else hurt?”

Everything, everything hurt, and Freddie didn’t know what to say or where to begin; Jim could see how overwhelmed he was. “I’ll say some things that might hurt, and you tell me yes or no, okay?” He asked gently.

It was a yes to his head, and a yes to his throat; his chest didn’t hurt so badly, but his back was scratched up. His stomach was a yes, his lower back was a yes, his thighs and his ass were a yes, his legs and his feet were okay. Jim started with tea - he was worried about Freddie being so cold when he was ill already, though he knew it wasn’t too bad. 

Freddie closed his eyes as Jim cleaned his nose and retaped his tube. “What happened to this?” He asked.

“It got tugged.” Freddie murmured. “Nose bleed.”

“Does it feel okay? Does it still sit right?” Jim asked, deftly cleaning his face with a warm cloth. 

“I think so.” Freddie murmured. “I need to flush it.”

“I’ll grab your kit.” Jim gently kissed his cheek and stood up, retrieving his supplies from the cupboard beside them. “Do you want to do it or shall I?”

“You.” Freddie’s hands were shaking too badly to try and do anything. 

Jim nodded and washed his hands again before he opened up one of the syringes. He pushed the water through and noticed when it began backing up; he immediately drew it back out. “You’re either blocked up or kinked.” He murmured and kissed his forehead. “I can try and unblock it for you now, or we can go and get some rest and the doctors at the hospital can do it in the morning.”

“Sleep.” Freddie murmured heavily. “Sleep, please.”

Jim picked him up and held him closely, his mind abuzz with all the things that could have happened: his job so often was to not ask questions, to patch up and send away with a smile, but he wanted to know so, so badly what had happened. Freddie, though, was asleep by the time they reached the bed, dark eyelashes fluttering against bruised cheekbones.

* * *

Jim managed to secure last-minute cover for his shift with a lot of early morning phone calls; he could tell Freddie wasn’t well, and he wanted to be there for his lover. They were laying together on the gastro ward, Freddie still dozing against his chest; the test was a dull one, one that took hours, and Jim wouldn’t dream of leaving him alone when he was like this.

Chelsea smiled as she walked into their little bay, waving at Jim: they’d worked together a lot in emergency while she’d been on rotation, and Jim had sung her praises when it had come to her reference for gastro. “How are you doing?” She asked with a smile, sitting beside the bed.

“We’re not too bad.” Jim kissed the top of Freddie’s head when he yawned. “How about you, baby?”

“Bit of stomach pain.” He murmured, sitting up a little. “Have you got the results yet?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.” She laced her fingers and rested them on her knee. “And it explains the stomach pain. Your stomach healing has been a little slower than we had expected, so the nerves haven’t totally healed yet. That’s leading to some problems with stomach paralysis.” She explained. “It should only be temporary, but it’s set us back a little in terms of your progression.”

“Today gets better and better.” Freddie rubbed his eyes tiredly. “What does that mean in day to day life?”

“You’ll be looking at having the tube a little while longer. We’re going to change the one that you’ve got so that it’s suitable to be for however long you need without having to change it every few weeks.” She kept her voice gentle, not wanting to scare him. “Plus, the scan showed that yours is partially dislodged, which must not be very comfortable for you.”

Jim rubbed his arm. “It’s probably to do with your new diagnosis, baby, it just means you’re not healing as quickly while your body fights it. It’s normal, I promise.”

Freddie nodded tiredly. “It got pulled last night.” He said quietly. “How does it come out?”

“Same way as it goes in, I’m afraid. I’ll have a more senior doctor come and take it out for you, it shouldn’t take more than ten minutes. They’ll be gentle with you.” She promised.

She left the room and Freddie looked down at his stomach. “I can’t believe my body put up with so much and now it’s just packing in.”

“It’s not packing in, darling.” Jim wrapped his arms around Freddie’s waist and held him close. “While your viral load is high, your body isn’t going to heal as well. But we’re going to go and pick up your prescription, and you’ll start getting your load down, and we’ll have the new tube fitted while your stomach finishes healing and then you’ll be good as new.” He kissed Freddie’s temple.

“I just feel so- so gross.” Freddie admitted. “I can’t believe you love me when I’m like this.”

“Oh, shush.” Jim smiled. “I’m the last person that’s going to be weirded out by a medical condition. Anything you need doing, I can help you with, although-” He squeezed Freddie’s hand. “You’re doing a wonderful job of it yourself.”

Freddie smiled shyly. “I should- I need to tell you about last night.”

Jim carefully brushed his hair from his face. “I didn’t want to ask too many questions.”

“I appreciate that. I didn’t want to talk about it.” He looped an arm around Jim’s waist. “I saw Paul.”

“Why?” Jim questioned.

“He said that he- he would make sure I didn’t see you again if I didn’t go.” Freddie tightened his fingers in his shirt. “And he knows where you live and who you are. I was frightened he’d do something to you or the children.”

Jim kissed the top of his head. “What did he do to you, darling?”

“He just wanted sex, really.” Freddie murmured. “It wasn’t too bad, really, I just didn’t- I didn’t like how rough he was with me. It kind of spooked me, made me think of bad times.”

Jim sighed. “We need this bastard locked up.” He whispered. “He can’t keep hurting you like this.”

“I just want him gone.” Freddie admitted. “I want a divorce, I want to change my name, I want to change the children’s names, I want him out of my life.”

“Next time he says something like that, darling, tell me. I don’t want you to have to go through this all by yourself.” He kissed his cheek. “I’ll keep you safe.”

* * *

“Holly!” Freddie seemed to have brightened a little, despite the ordeal of having the tube taken out and replaced all in one day; he felt safer, more secure with Jim around, and was finally beginning to relax again. His rough was rough and sore after the ordeal on his throat, but Jim had been keeping him up on his fluids to help him: he felt protected and well-looked after with a doctor in his home. “Holly!” He stood up quickly and laughed as she hid behind the sofa; Freddie had been trying to brush her hair after her bath, but she didn’t want him to. 

“No!” She giggled, grabbing a cushion and holding it to her chest. 

“Baby, you’ll get cold!” Freddie smiled and knelt opposite her. “Why don’t I put you in your jams and then put some nice strawberry spray in your hair?” He offered.

He’d managed to get her underwear and a little vest on her, and she seemed adamant that she didn’t need anything more. She shook her head again and giggled, running away again when Freddie reached for her: Freddie smiled and held his hands up in defeat. “I tell you what-” He sat cross legged on the floor. “My hair could do with a good brush, why don’t you help me?” He asked, starting to brush the ends of his hair with her little hairbrush.

She looked at him curiously and then came over, taking the brush and standing behind Freddie. “Knotty.” She murmured.

“I haven’t brushed it since I showered.” He told her. “Can you help me get it smooth?”

She nodded, little tongue sticking out with concentration as she separated his hair into sections. Xavier toddled over and sat himself in Freddie’s lap, kicking his little legs in the air. He held a tube of bubbles in his hand and handed them over to Freddie, who immediately laughed. “Are you a bubble baby?” He teased.

He smiled, big and open, and nodded. “Bubb!” He said excitedly.

Freddie opened the tube and blew bubbles into the air above them, smiling when his son started grabbing at them and giggling when they popped between his fingers. Holly gasped and reached up to grab them too, showering them all in the scent of soap, making Freddie laugh when she used him to lean on to reach higher-

“God, sorry I’m so late, I brought some things with me because I know you’re working two bloody jobs at the moment and you’re probably eating crap and I thought you could-” The man stopped when she saw Freddie and his two half-dressed children, pausing and staring at them as if they were creatures from another planet.

Freddie stared back and Holly frowned. “Daddy, who’s that?” Holly asked loudly.

“The tension in here is so thick you could cut it with a knife.” Jim commented, rubbing a towel through his hair as he walked into the lounge. “Everything okay?”

“Who’s this?” The man asked unsurely. “You didn’t mention-”

“This is Freddie, my boyfriend, and our two children.” He replied confidently and leaned over to peck her cheek. “Chill out, Dad.”

Freddie relaxed a little and stood up quickly. “It’s nice to meet you.” He smiled shyly. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend!” He leaned over and hugged Freddie immediately. “Too many secrets, Hutton!”

“We’ve been a little busy, Dad.” Jim chuckled and picked up Xavier. 

“I’m Avi!” He announced, smiling at the new face in the room. 

“Freddie, Avi and-” He looked at Holly, who was hidden behind Freddie’s leg. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Holly.” She murmured, putting her thumb in her mouth. 

“We’ve just finished bathtime, we got a little distracted by playtime.” Freddie’s cheeks warmed. He didn’t want to be seen as a terrible father because he let his little ones run around half naked, and he immediately felt that he had to justify himself. “I’ll- I’ll just go and get them dressed.” He murmured shyly.

Jim poured him a mug of tea and smiled. “Quite the shock?” He teased.

“Quite the shock.” He agreed. “Is he one of yours? One of your patients, I mean, from the-” He gestured at his nose.

“He was one of mine.” He nodded and leaned on the side. “He’s got gastroparesis, hence the tube. He’s not shy about it or anything, you can ask him, he won’t bite your hand off.” He promised.

“Are you happy with him? It’s not too much like work?” He asked, sipping her tea.

“Absolutely not.” Jim smiled. “It’s not like work at all. He doesn’t expect me to do anything, he does it all himself, all the flushes and feeds and the like. The only thing I do is help him unblock it if it gets stuck, because I’ve been trained in how to do that.” Jim sat himself on the counter and grinned. “I love him.”

“How long have you been together?” He asked. “He’s a little older than you, isn’t he?”

“He’s thirty-four, so it’s only two years.” Jim shrugged. “We’ve been together about a month. He’s had a couple of financial problems, so he’s been staying with me while he works through those.”

Xavier came running back in, sleepsuit in his hand, giggling. “Pop!” He held out his arms. 

“You and Holly are running rings around your poor Daddy today.” Jim rolled his eyes playfully and picked up the little boy, kissing his forehead. “Let’s pop this on you, shall we?” He asked, standing him on the counter. 

Xavier sat down and let Jim put his feet in the sleepsuit, kicking whenever he started to tickle him playfully. “You know, darling, I never thought you’d be the one I got grandchildren from.” Steven came forward and looked at the way his deft fingers did up Xavier’s poppers. 

“You know I love you very much, don’t you, Avi?” Jim leaned down and kissed his nose. “All done. Well done for being a good boy.”

The little boy glowed with pride. “Love you, Pop.” He said happily, rubbing one of his eyes. 

“How old is Avi?” Steven asked, smiling when he started to play with his bracelet. 

“He’s two.” Freddie carried Holly back into the room, bundled now in her pajamas with her hair freshly brushed. “He had his second birthday last month. Holly’s three.” He sat her next to her brother. “I need to do dinner, don’t I?”

“I’m sure we can eat something that Dad has brought.” Jim kissed his cheek. “I said you needed to slow down, remember?”

“I-” Freddie glanced at Steven and smiled shyly. “I’m quite traditional, really. I like to look after him.”

“I think that’s wonderful.” He smiled. “I think he needs someone to look after him as much as he looks after other people.”

Freddie kissed his cheek shyly. “I’m certainly lucky for how much he looks after me.”

“He said you’ve got gastro-” He trailed off, unable to remember the world. 

“Gastroparesis.” Freddie nodded. “Temporary, we hope. It’s not too severe.”

“Do you have a job?” He asked. “I imagine, between the kids and the illness, you probably don’t have time.”

“I’m training to be a ballet dancer.” He tucked his tube back behind his ear self-consciously. “I know it seems a little weird.”

“No, that’s cool!” He insisted. “That’s a hard job, though.”

“It’s rewarding.” Freddie smiled. “I enjoy it, even if the pay packet isn’t the best.”

“A ballet dancer with two adorable young children? I don’t think my son could’ve done much better.” She smiled. “He can afford to support you, after all.”

Holly rested her head against her father’s chest and smiled. “Daddy.” She said quietly, 

Freddie kissed the top of her head and bounced her mindlessly. “I think we’re happy together.” He smiled. “I certainly am.”

“Oh, darling, me too.” Jim wound a confident arm around his waist and kissed his temple. “Me too.”


	17. Bundles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days blur into one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the terrible upload rate recently - this week is deadline week and then I have a week at home which should give me time to give you guys lots of content across all fics!
> 
> TW: discussions and instances of victim-blaming/shaming and mentions of dubious consent (in the past, obvs)

“I feel guilty.” He blurted out, cheeks reddening as he looked away from Harvey’s face. Everything had been bubbling inside of him, threatening to spill over, and for the first time he felt what Jim had said all along, that someday he might want to talk. “But then I feel bad for feeling guilty, and then I feel bad for feeling bad about it.”

The sudden admittance didn’t fit in with the rest of their conversation, but Harvey had been insistent that Freddie could always change topics whenever he wanted to, whenever he felt ready. He’d never spoken about his relationship or his teenage years, vehemently staying away from the subjects that he was really there for, but she knew it was part of the process of building up trust between them: he’d grown to see her as a friend. “That’s awfully complex.” She smiled and put her papers to the side, focusing in on him. “What do you feel guilty about?”

“Leaving.” He admitted, cupping his hands behind his neck and leaning forwards. “I- I keep getting this picture in my head, our house all dirty and his clothes unclean and him going hungry because he doesn’t know how to cook, and I feel so guilty. I think- I think about the fucking toys we left behind that I know the children loved, and I think about everything he bought for me that I just abandoned - all he was ever trying to do was be nice to me.”

“Do you really believe that?” She questioned. “Or is that why you feel bad for feeling guilty?”

“I don’t know.” He murmured. “I feel like I shouldn’t feel guilty because Jim’s doing such a great job and I don’t know why I can’t just be happy with what I’ve got instead of constantly thinking about the past. But then I feel bad for thinking I shouldn’t be guilty, because then it’s like- it’s like I’m not a proper victim.” He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I don’t know.” He repeated.

“What’s a proper victim?” She challenged him.

“You know-” He waved his hand vaguely. “Bruised. Has flashbacks. Can’t hold down a job. Can’t do anything except think about the past. Can’t possibly love anyone else.”

“And which of those don’t you fit?” She asked, more gently.

“I’ve maybe got a job and I got a new boyfriend in the space of a week. Real victims, they don’t move on, and maybe I have moved on.” He bit his lip. “I’m not sure. People have it worse than me, I mean, some people are like pinned down and forced into sex or cut or whatever. I was just smacked about a bit.”

“What do you define as ‘smacked about a bit’?” She frowned.

“I- well- you know.” He stammered again. “Couple of punches. Some backhands. Just a bit of- manhandling, I guess. Pushed me around a bit. I didn’t stand up to him, he didn’t even know I didn’t like it. I used to cry, it used to piss him off, I should’ve known better, really.”

“Freddie-” Harvey’s voice turned a little more sympathetic.

“It’s true, though.” Freddie said quietly. “I got stuff wrong or I didn’t do stuff or I said I didn’t want to do stuff because I was tired or hungry or injured or whatever, but that wasn’t fair on him. I’m his husband, I said my vows, but they were harder than I thought. I promised to be faithful and obedient, but obedience is so fucking difficult.”

“No matter what you say or do, Freddie, you don’t deserve to be abused.” Harvey said gently.

“But that’s what I mean!” He twisted his fingers agitatedly in the blanket on his lap. “It wasn’t abuse. He was lovely to me, he was so sweet and charming and he’d take me out for dinner and buy me lovely expensive clothes and nice furniture for the house. He used to introduce me as his petal to everybody.” Freddie’s cheeks pinkened as he looked down. “And when he was in a good mood he would pour us both prosecco and he’d snuggle with the children or kiss me while I made dinner. He wasn’t a monster.”

“Just because someone is nice to you doesn’t mean that they can’t abuse you.” She explained, but Freddie frowned more.

“If he’d abused me then he wouldn’t have worked so hard to make our lives comfortable.” He said quietly. 

Harvey leaned forward and gently touched his hand, though he flinched a little. “Abuse isn’t constant.” She said, keeping her voice soft. “Being nice is all a part of it. He wants to make you feel like this. If he was horrible to you all the time, there’s no reason for you to feel guilty about leaving, and so he makes sure there’s good in the bad so that you cling onto those memories.”

Freddie stayed quiet for a few moments. “But I got things wrong.” He tried again, sounding weaker.

“He put in place rules that were easy to break and then punished you for it. Because he’s known you for so long, you’ve grown up with all of those rules, they don’t seem strange to you.” She paused and then changed tactics. “What would you expect Jim to do if he was disappointed by you?”

“He hasn’t been disappointed by me yet.” Freddie said quietly. “He’d probably just- I don’t know.” He mumbled nervously; he didn’t like to think about it. “Probably just slap me a bit. Maybe he’d want sex, or something.”

“It’s not normal to deal with disagreements through violence.” She told him. “As adults, you should be able to deal with them through discussion to reach a resolution. You should be able to talk to one another about anything you need to.” She sighed. “Sex shouldn’t be used like that.”

Freddie picked at his nails. “I don’t think I’m very good at talking to him.” He said quietly. “Because he- he’s so level-headed and he’s so happy and he’s so lovely and he doesn’t need to be all concerned about me when he has so much going on in his life as it is.”

“He wants to care for you, Freddie.” She said gently. “He wouldn’t love you if he couldn’t love all of you. He loves you for everything about you, he’s not just focused on the sweet parts.”

* * *

Jim gently combed his fingers through Freddie’s hair, smiling to himself when he turned instinctively towards his hand; once upon a time, he would’ve flinched from that touch, but now he liked the feeling of warm fingers in his hair, on his face, trailing his skin and his lip. He closed his eyes when his fingers traced his jawline, smiling when Jim caught his finger on the corner of his mouth to turn it up into a smile. “How are you doing?” Jim asked.

“I’m nervous.” He admitted, nuzzling into his hand when he cupped his cheek, supporting his tired head. “I just- I know the people I’m auditioning with, and I know I can do the routines, but I’m scared I’ll fuck it up.”

“How are you preparing for it?” Jim asked softly. “Are you feeling okay in your body?”

“Yeah.” Freddie nodded. “I don’t think I’m going to eat before I go because it keeps making me sick. I talked to one of the doctors and they gave me a better feed to run, so I might do that overnight. I can sleep in the spare room if you want, because it’s loud.”

Jim kissed his temple. “I can sleep through almost anything. I’ll feel wrong if I’m not sleeping next to you.” He kissed his forehead, then his nose, and smiled. “Are you happy with the feed?”

“Yeah.” Freddie grinned. “It’s a more high energy one. Because my body doesn’t reject anything, it’s just a bit slow, I can have a high energy and high protein one that means I can dance better. If I use a standard one, I’ll end up losing weight, and I don’t want that, but I also don’t want to run the feed sixteen hours a day.”

“You know so much about this stuff.” Jim tapped out a rhythm on his side.

“I did nutrition classes when I trained with the ballet for a while.” He explained. “We did a whole course so that we were more confident in looking after ourselves as athletes. At least it means that I know what I’m talking about when they talk to me about keeping myself healthy.” He smiled, a little proud of himself. “The nurse said I’m one of the few people that’s made the transition without losing weight and all the complications that come with that.”

Jim squeezed him lightly and smiled. “When do we hear about whether you were successful or not?” He questioned.

“I’m not sure.” He murmured. “It could be a few weeks, I suppose. I’m hoping they’ll let me continue to train with them after the audition before we find out, just so I can keep my fitness up.”

“I’m sure they will. You were telling me about that woman - what was her name?” He furrowed his brow a little.

“Olga.” Freddie’s cheeks pinkened as he smiled. “She’s been enjoying my dancing.”

“Olga.” Jim repeated. “One of the senior ballet masters enjoys your dancing and wants to train you personally. That’s not to be sniffed at, darling.”

Freddie smiled as those fingers returned to his hair. “Thank you for being so supportive.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Jim smiled. “I love you, darling, you don’t have to thank me for loving you. It’s awfully easy.”

* * *

“I need a new pair of scrubs, a packet of cigarettes, a coffee and a phone.” Jim sat forward with his hands clasped behind his neck to hide how they shook. “I can’t- I can’t go back onto the ward right now. I need a break.”

“Here.” Matthew threw him some new scrubs. “You get changed, I’ll sort out the rest.”

When he returned, Matthew steered him into an office and sat him behind the desk, producing the cigarettes and coffee. “You can take your time.” He promised. “There’s two consultants in resus, I’ll bring one of them down to cover you.”

“Thanks.” Jim murmured, sounding nothing short of exhausted. His fingers trembled as he dialled the number for home, hoping so desperately to hear Freddie, the voice of reason and of comfort. 

The children were running around like mad after their time at nursery, hyper and energised from hours spent in the sunshine. Freddie himself was feeling a little more run down that day but he tried his best to keep up with them, stopping Xavier from stubbing his toes or Holly from banging her head when she climbed under the dining table. He stood up quickly when he heard the phone ring, accidentally smacking the top of his own head, and let out a little wounded whine before he answered. “Hello?”

“Freddie?” Jim asked quietly. 

“Are you okay?” Freddie asked immediately: Jim never called from work. “What’s going on?”

“I-” Jim started, vaguely aware that he was crying, and he rarely cried. “There was a little girl, and she was hurt so badly, and she died, and I- she looked like Holly, and I miss all of you.”

“Oh, darling.” Freddie softened. “Darling, it’s okay, we’re all okay, we’re safe at home. You don’t have to miss us, we’re right here.”

“I want to come home.” Jim said quietly. “I need you, I need all of you.”

“Come home.” Freddie said gently. “Come home to us.”

* * *

He was tear-stained and shaking when he finally got home, having almost held himself together on the tube, but the warmth of Freddie’s arms around him and little fingers clutching tight at fingers and wrists finally broke down the walls he was tired of holding up. Sometimes he needed to be vulnerable, too, sometimes he couldn’t hold it together for the rest of them; he needed them to know, needed Freddie to know, that he couldn’t always be so rock solid.

“I’m sorry.” He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve, somehow bundled up in blankets between Freddie and the children on the sofa. “God, it just- it got me.”

“It’s okay, darling, you don’t have to be sorry.” Freddie murmured, gently kissing his temple. “Everything gets to us from time to time. You’re all stressed out at the moment because of us and the suspension and changing jobs and my audition and everything, it’s natural that it all spills out eventually.”

Freddie seemed unnaturally calm, the opposite of the panic Jim had expected: he was gentle yet firm, caring and kind and oh-so-lovely when he dragged the pads of his thumbs over the tender skin beneath Jim’s eyes. “I don’t want to stress you out.” He finally admitted.

“You don’t stress me out.” Freddie promised, settling down against him. “I like looking after people. I like that you let me look after you.”

Somewhere in the back of his head, it clicked: when he was able to protect people, Freddie felt good about himself. Looking after people made him feel strong, as though he was in control, and brought all of his good qualities out to shine. “I guess this whole change has been pretty overwhelming.” He said quietly.

“Of course it has been.” Freddie interlaced their fingers and squeezed his hand lightly. “A boyfriend who’s partially disabled and two children under the age of three makes things hectic at the best of times. You still have to put yourself first.”

Jim glanced down at him, finally calm, and squeezed his hand a little tighter. “I think I worry a lot about you being sick. I don’t want you to be sick or in pain and I can’t help you because I’m at work.”

Freddie was glad that they were talking openly: he found it hard to start conversations, but he didn’t mind being open and honest if he was sure that Jim was too. “I think you have to accept that I will be sick and in pain while you’re at work. This illness is the fucking worst.” He rested his head against Jim’s collarbone. “But hopefully I’ll get better or I’ll learn to manage it or something. These are just the bad beginning stages.”

Jim nodded. “I just don’t want you to be upset if-” He paused. “Fuck, it was your audition today, I didn’t even ask you how it went!”

“It was nothing special, darling.” Freddie shrugged, trying to mask his disappointment. “I wasn’t feeling great. I’m not expecting much.”

“Oh, darling-” Jim softened instinctively, but Freddie just shook his head.

“I had a nose bleed halfway through. It was awful, it was one of those ones where my tube keeps irritating my nose until it bleeds, but I think it ended any chance I had. I think it made them think that I’m too sick to dance.” He sighed. “Maybe I am. Too sick and too old.”

Jim sighed. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“I don’t know.” Freddie admitted. “Maybe I’ll pack it all in and become an art teacher or something. I might be quite good at that.”

“You might be.” Jim conceded. “Would you be happy?”

“Happy enough.” Freddie shrugged. “I like kids and it’s something to get me out of the house. As much as I’d like the band and the ballet to take off, I’m an adult and I’ve got mouths to feed now, and I’ve got to pull my weight one way or another.”

“We should wait until you’re a little better.” Jim rubbed his side. “The last thing we need is kids’ germs going down a tube or into a line and taking the whole process back to square one.”

“Darling, I think my kids have made me immune to all that.” Freddie finally cracked a smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll find something, regardless.”


	18. Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ups and the downs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a wild ride because it's been written across several days and several moods!

“Oh, darling!” Olga said excitedly, looking at the little boy sleeping against Freddie’s chest as he walked into the Opera House. “Freddie, you never mentioned you had a child!”

He smiled shyly as Xavier shifted against him, finding the warmest and most comfortable spot against his father. “This is my son, Xavier.” He replied quietly, adjusting his grip on the toddler. “He’s two.”

“He’s adorable.” Olga lowered her voice and came closer, resting a hand on Xavier’s back. “Where does he usually go when you’re here?”

“He usually goes to nursery.” Freddie kissed his forehead. “But he was having a bit of a wobble this morning, his tummy was hurting. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if he could have a chair and do some colouring. He’s good as gold.”

“Of course not.” She agreed. “I always think children bring a lovely new energy to any rehearsal room. Especially when they’re as sweet as yours.” She smiled. “He’s simply delightful.”

“Thank you.” He said softly. “Jim said he’ll come and pick him up when he’s finished work. He was on an early morning shift, he started at five, so he hopefully be here about midday.”

“Is Jim fond of children?” She questioned, pulling up a chair for Xavier. “Would he like a blanket?”

“I think he’d probably love that.” Freddie agreed and gently laid the little boy amongst the cushions. “Jim loves them, he took mine on straight away.” He smiled. “Thank you so much for this.”

She carefully laid a blanket over Xavier’s sleeping form and smiled to herself. “It’s a long time since my kids were this little, it’s a treat.” She said earnestly. “Is he yours biologically?”

“No.” Freddie dropped a kiss on his forehead when he looked around, bleary-eyed and sleepy, and smiled when his little eyes drooped closed again. “No, I adopted him when he was a newborn. His sister, too, although she was one.”

“You’ve got two?” She questioned as they walked together into the centre of the room. “I can’t believe you never mentioned them.”

“It’s-” Freddie almost couldn’t believe how easy he found it to be honest with her. “It’s a protection thing. I don’t want my ex-husband finding them and it’s easier if people don’t associate me and the children so quickly.”

“That’s understandable.” She nodded and smiled. “Now, I wanted to talk to you about your audition.”

Freddie’s shoulders drooped almost immediately - it was a conversation he’d been hoping to avoid for as long as possible. He’d come to love this building, the sweltering rehearsal rooms, the way the morning sunshine cut through the glass panelling, the labyrinthine corridors of treatment rooms and gyms and saunas and offices stacked to the roof with pianos and sheet music . He loved the little rooftop fitness area, his pigeon hole stuffed with shoes in the basement, the buzz of atmosphere backstage that was so tantalisingly close, yet so unfairly far, the image of lights and the soft fall of shoes and bowing so low that fingertips sweep the floor so tangible and yet so impossible to reach-

“Would you like to audition again?” She asked him, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Again?” Freddie replied quietly, an oxymoronic contradiction of joy and disappointment suffusing its way into his voice.

“I think we both know that last time wasn’t your best.” She told him frankly. “But I don’t want you to give up if you don’t have to. I know you were thrown off when you started having that nose bleed, and we don’t hold that against you, but I think you gave up halfway through because you thought we’d rejected you. I’d like to see you at your best.”

Frustrated tears burned at the back of his throat and he turned away, looking out the window as he balled his hands into fists. “I’m too sick.” He murmured, trying to ignore the way disappointment scorched through him.

“We don’t think you’re too sick if you don’t.” Olga rested a hand on his back, frowning when she saw the tears brimming in his eyes. “What’s the matter, darling?”

“He does this every time.” He scuffed his shoe across the floor. “Every fucking time, I’m ready and he messes it up. I-” He thumped a fist against the wall, hard enough to jolt the bones in his hands painfully. “I was so fucking ready.”

“I don’t think I follow.” She admitted, softening her voice a little.

“I lied to you when I told you that all of this-” He gestured angrily at the tube - he wanted to tear the thing out, to go back a few months to when he was relatively healthy, when he was training at his old school and he was glowing with pride and exertion as he was told how damn beautiful he was - and then rested his forehead against the cold glass of the window. “Was a complication of a stomach ulcer. It wasn’t.”

She frowned. “Then what was it, darling?”

“I was stabbed.” He rested his hand instinctively over the scar. “By my ex-husband, for leaving him and for maybe trying to do one thing for myself. I’ve tried to audition for companies five times, and every time that I’ve tried, he’s broken something or injured something or twisted something beyond repair.” He sighed. “And now I’ll have to live with this for the rest of my life.”

Olga remained quiet for a few moments. “I want to help you.” She said eventually. “How can I help you?”

“I don’t think you can.” Freddie wiped his nose roughly with the back of his hand, wincing when it pulled on his tube. “You can’t let me in on sympathy.”

“I think you’re a beautiful dancer.” She told him. “I- I think I can see, when you’re doing those complex and emotional variations, I can see what you’re talking about. You- you understand that pain.” She rubbed a hand across his back. “I think we’d be ridiculous to let you go.”

“But you can’t let me in on sympathy.” Freddie replied, a little more irritated. 

“Audition again.” She coaxed him. “I’ll sort it out for you. I won’t let you go so easily.”

* * *

The days of sleeping late, of sluggishness, of heaviness, of disinterest and feigned smiles and oppressive peace seemed to melt into something- something more. He wasn’t sure if it was happiness, just yet, but when Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek, or pulled him close at night, he stopped jittering out of his skin. He wasn’t sure if it was happiness, but he stopped looking at his feet when he walked with the children to nursery; they made up rhymes about birdsong, or sang songs, or they implored him for another story and he went on in a whirlwind of pirates and princesses and evil alien robots. He wasn’t sure if it was happiness, but he’d stop to listen to the buskers around the Piccadilly line and he’d drop a coin or two into their cases, and sometimes he’d sing along if they recognised him from the local scene. He sang with the band, and he’d finish a gig with cheeks flushed and energy seeming to ooze from every pore; he trained harder than he ever had before, sweaty and gidding with the excitement of moving in that way again. He stopped feeling tired when he woke up, and started feeling tired when he went to bed; he stopped feeling anxious when Jim came home, and started to feel enlivened.

Balanced.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Jim tapped on his temple and pulled him closer, hands clasped over Freddie’s stomach as he lay with his back to Jim’s chest.

“Your hands feel nice.” Freddie replied mindlessly. “My stomach hurts.”

“Still?” Jim frowned. “Has it been better at all over the last few weeks?”

“A little.” Freddie nodded, closing his eyes as he rested against him. “I did eat today, though, and I wasn’t sick.”

“That’s good!” Jim kissed his temple. “What did the doctor say?”

“We were talking about maybe fitting something more permanent while I’m recovering.” He yawned. “A stomach button. He showed me what it looks like and I like the idea of having that instead of this.” He fiddled idly with his tube. “It’ll mean that I can drain instead of being sick, and it won’t be as noticeable.”

Jim traced his fingers over Freddie’s stomach. “Do they think you’ll totally recover?”

“Hopefully.” Freddie murmured. “I don’t want to be sick forever.”

“Even if you are sick, darling, you won’t necessarily feel like this.” Jim promised. “Because you’ll stop feeling like you are sick. You’ll get to the point where all of this is the new normal.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I just want to be a good daddy.” He admitted. “I’m scared I’ll stop being able to look after them if I’m really sick.”

“The worst thing that could happen would be that they fitted you with a button and you had to be put on semi-elemental.” Jim explained, trying his best to be soothing. “And that wouldn’t be much different to now. It just wouldn’t go through your nose.”

“I like the fact that you talk sense.” Freddie murmured softly. “It’s weirdly comforting that you know the worst case scenario. I feel like even if everything went wrong, you'd know what to do.”

“Medical stuff doesn’t phase me.” Jim chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “How’s the dancing?”

Freddie lit up immediately. “Today was really good.” He said excitedly. “I nearly didn’t go in because I wasn’t feeling great, I woke up and my energy wasn’t high at all and I realised that my tube blocked last night. It ended up only being the giving tube that blocked.” He smiled. “But I just went anyway, just to give it a go, and I ended up rehearsing a principle role.”

“That’s amazing!” Jim said excitedly. “Freddie, that’s such a big thing!”

“Olga got one of the other ballet masters to come and watch. They’re thinking of giving me a kind of progressive audition, instead of doing it all in one go, so they watched and scored me based on how I was doing in that rehearsal.” Freddie’s smile turned wide, excited, one of the few looks of genuine joy that he’d given Jim in all their time together. “So we’re going to do that for about two weeks and then they’ll make their assessment of me.”

“They’re so desperate to keep you there.” Jim kissed the top of his head. “Olga thinks you’re amazing. They wouldn’t work so hard if you weren’t so talented.”

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened and he smiled shyly. “You’re so lovely to me.” He murmured.

“You deserve everything.” Jim kissed his lips as Freddie turned to face him. “You deserve absolutely everything, darling, everything.” He paused and tucked his hair behind his ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Freddie softened in his arms and smiled.

* * *

“I feel-” The evening sun caught the highs of his cheekbones, the lows of the pout of his lips, the sparkle behind his eyes, gilding everything with precious jewels, ruby, garnet, emerald. “I feel so- so energised.” He smiled widely, and the sun caught the hint of his teeth. “I haven’t felt like this for years.”

Jim wrapped his arms around him and kissed the back of his neck as they watched the waves lap against the side of the boat. “You feel so strong.”

“I feel so different.” He replied. “I feel so- so  _ different.”  _ He repeated.

“What do you feel like?” Jim asked, so addicted to the sound of his voice, honey-warm and sweet and gorgeous.

“I feel like I did when I was little.” Freddie grinned. “When I was outspoken and confident and I wasn’t scared of the world. I don’t feel sick anymore.”

“I told you.” Jim kissed his cheek. “Everything starts to fall into place, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were just being nice.” Freddie admitted. “I thought that was just the thing that doctors had to say to make you feel better.”

“We don’t lie to you.” Jim smiled and kissed the back of his neck; his skin was irresistibly warm and Jim couldn’t seem to stop himself from clinging close. “What’s changed, do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Freddie stretched his arms up towards the sun and smiled to himself. “Harvey’s helping, and you’re helping, and the tablets are helping. We were talking about expectations, and I just realised that my perception of everything is so skewed, but knowing that- it’s strangely liberating.”

“Why?” Jim sat back on one of the chairs on the deck and held his arms open for Freddie, who fell into them happily.

“Harvey was asking me about what I’d expect you to do if you were angry.” He started to explain. “And I- I kind of assumed that you’d probably hit me, or you’d want sex, or whatever. But we were talking about consent, and about boundaries, which sounds stupid, I’m not a kid-” He forced himself to pause, to calm down, to talk to him properly. “But I never really learned about that kind of thing. She explained to me how normal relationships work, and it- they sound wonderful.” He smiled, almost a little giddy.

“Wonderful?” Jim replied, smiling.

“Just so supportive.” Freddie traced his fingers over Jim’s side and giggled a little. “The idea that you- the idea that I can say no, and you’ll accept that. The idea that if you get angry, you might want some time alone and then you’d want to talk about it and then we’d leave it there. The idea that I might not want sex and you wouldn’t kind of- kind of try and talk me into it.”

“Never.” Jim promised him. “I’d never lay a finger on you, sweetness. I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“It makes me so excited.” Freddie admitted. “That’s probably weird, but like- the idea that I can live differently now. I like the fact that I might get to experience love in a different way.” Freddie looked like a child at Christmas, his face warm and excited and loving. “Love without fear.”

“Happy looks good on you.” Jim twirled his hair around his finger mindlessly. “I hope I give you everything you want and more.”

“You are.” Freddie smiled. “You are, you are, I love you.”

Jim grinned and pulled him closer, kissing him soft and slow and loving. “I love you too.”


	19. Trains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all a slow process of recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the surgery does happen in this chapter, but I've glossed over it because this is already heavy on medical stuff and I didn't feel like it would add anything!

He’d spotted the paints when he’d been on a wander through Leicester Square in his lunch break, when he’d been glancing through the stained-glass windows of an art shop that he could only dream of being able to shop in. They were a simple set, small and expensive acrylics, and Freddie had fallen in love with them immediately.

Every set of paints he’d ever owned had had a variety of blues, greens, purples if he was lucky, but he’d always been left with the simplest of shades of his favourite colours: the red, the orange, the yellow. This set, though, was so beautifully multi-tonal, buttercup yellow next to apple butter, next to cream and bumblebee and honey and amber. Scarlet next to firetruck, next to cherry, garnet, crimson, rose. Peach next to apricot, tangerine, marmalade, amber, ginger.

The colours blended into one another so beautifully, his smooth skin the perfect canvas, his toes, feet and ankles blossoming into surrealist gardens of Eden, overgrown with beauty, flowers heavy with scent. The day had been hard, decisions to make and difficult rehearsals that had left him wearied by the time he’d picked the children up from nursery; he’d put them both down for a nap and had suddenly found himself purposeless, the worry starting to creep back in. 

He’d been experimenting with different ways of coping with those moments, the times when all his fear and worry seemed to creep back in, when he started feeling frightened and alone without his boyfriend to comfort him or his children to distract him. He enjoyed playing piano, but they didn’t own one on the boat and he didn’t dare ask Jim for something so expensive; he enjoyed running or dancing, but not when he was tired and he had the children to look after; he enjoyed cooking, but it was barely after three o’clock and it wasn’t so fun when he couldn’t eat it for himself.

But painting- that he could do any time, anywhere, on anything.

The paint felt good, cool and soothing against his skin, the brush gentle over healing bruises. He was no stranger to hurting his body, but to treat it like this was both a distraction and an indulgence: he felt so calm as he watched the beautiful patterns coming to light, patiently letting each layer dry before starting on more details. He took the design further up his leg, over his shins, his calves, his knees, up onto his thigh, butterflies hiding among roses, peonies with ladybirds in between petals, every stem picked of thorns.

Holly wandered into the lounge, sleepily clutching onto her teddy bear, and gasped when she saw Freddie. She was used to seeing her father covered in colours - unfortunately, his skin coloured purple so easily when he was bruised - but they were never like this, never beautiful, never painted with such softness and delicacy. “Daddy?” She whispered.

Freddie glanced over at her and smiled at her little face, the look of awe that she held. “Do you like it?” He asked, holding a hand out for her as she ran over.

“Pictures!” She said excitedly, tracing the wings of a butterfly. “It’s pretty.” Freddie cleaned off his brush and dipped it in the butterscotch, using it to gently paint a flower on the back of her hand. She sat next to him and smiled as he did so, being careful to keep oh-so-still so that she wouldn’t smudge his hard work. “Do you paint lots, Daddy?”

“I used to.” Freddie kept painting when Holly looked up at him hopefully, matching the pattern to what he’d painted on himself. “When I was little. Before I met your Papa.”

“Are we going to see Papa again?” She asked shyly.

“No.” Freddie added a little heart to her design and she smiled. “No, darling, it’s not safe. We might be hurt.” He paused. “Does that make sense?”

Her little face lit up immediately. “I don’t have to see Papa?”

“No, darling.” Freddie couldn’t help his smile, relieved that she didn’t have a problem with it. “No, it’s just going to you, me, Avi and Pop.”

“Can we keep Pop?” She asked, so earnest. 

“Oh, darling-” Freddie picked her up and cuddled her close. “Forever and ever. I love your Pop so, so much, sweetheart, and I think that we’re going to be very happy forever now.”

She picked up the paintbrush, loading it up to paint a heart on Freddie’s cheek; he found it so endearing that he didn’t mind when she used far too much paint. “Do you love Papa?” She asked.

He couldn’t explain the nuances of his answer to a three-year-old, he couldn’t explain that yes he did love him, that sometimes memories of the good days would hit him and throw him off track, he’d start missing light kisses and the beauty of the house he once lived in, the rush that came with being praised, doing things right, being told he was wonderful and beautiful and lovely. He couldn’t explain that despite everything good, the bad stung more, every time he’d been physically, sexually, emotionally assaulted; the fact that he did love him, so deeply that it was a part of his personality, but that he would never, ever go back. “No, darling.” He settled on instead. “No, not any more.”

Holly smiled wider, as though Freddie was saying everything she’d ever wanted to hear. “I love you.” She told him. “I love you, Daddy, lots.”

“I love you too, sweetness.” He murmured as she painted a flower on his cheek.

Jim stood in the doorway and watched the pair, smiling to himself. “How’s everybody?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe and taking a moment to admire the art on Freddie’s skin. 

Holly looked up. “Pop!” She squealed, running over to him and throwing her arms around him when he crouched down to hug her. “Pop!” She said excitedly

“Hello, darling.” He chuckled, picking her up and holding her closely. “Don’t you look wonderful, my little petal?”

She giggled and Freddie stood up, walking over and lightly pecking Jim’s lips. “She wanted to join in.” He chuckled.

“You’re a walking gallery, my love.” Jim wrapped an arm around his middle and squeezed him just a little. “You look gorgeous.”

“Harvey suggested it might be a nice coping method.” He relaxed against his lover, his daughter watching each of them in raptures. “I think she was right.”

“Most definitely.” Jim kissed him again and then grinned. “Now, who wants a chocolate before dinner?” He asked Holly, kissing her nose.

“Me!” She squealed, and Freddie couldn’t stop himself from laughing as she ran after her Pop into the kitchen.

* * *

“Have you got any time off in the next few days?” Freddie asked, idly laying against Jim’s side in bed. “Have you taken any holiday?”

“I haven’t planned any.” Jim traced over Freddie’s side, soft and gentle. “Why, do you need me?”

“I think we’ve decided that we’re going to go ahead with the gastrostomy.” He murmured. “A double one. A button that goes to my stomach and my intestines.” He shivered a little just thinking about it. “It makes me squirm.”

“Are you okay with that?” Jim checked. “They’ve explained it all properly to you, you don’t have any questions, and you’re definitely happy for them to go ahead?”

“I want to.” Freddie nodded. “If I have to live with this, I’d rather have the button than the tube in my nose. It’ll make life a lot easier, and it won’t show when I’m dancing.”

“So long as you’re happy, darling.” Jim rubbed his side. “You tell me when you need me and I’ll be there. I’ll take you to it and from it and I’ll help you look after yourself in the first few days because it’ll probably be a bit sore.”

“More than a bit.” Freddie chuckled. “They’re going to cut my stomach open again.”

“Not open.” Jim yawned and kissed his forehead. “It’ll be the tiniest little nick, and they’ll do it properly and safely.”

“I know.” Freddie nodded. “I just want it over and done with so that I can get back to normal.”

“Will it affect your audition period?” Jim questioned, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the top of Freddie’s head. 

“I should be fine. It finishes at the end of the week, so I can take some time off and it won’t affect it.” He let his heavy eyelids fall shut, giving in to the tiredness in his body. “Can I ask you a question?”

Jim nuzzled his hair and nodded sleepily. “Of course.”

“Do you want to have sex?” Freddie mumbled. “With me?”

Jim opened one eye. “Why?”

“Do you?” Freddie yawned.

“I- well-” Jim spluttered, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He didn’t want Freddie to think that he thought him unattractive - it couldn’t have been more wrong - but he didn’t want him to feel pressured. “If you wanted to.”

“No, but do you?” Freddie propped himself up on one elbow and looked at his lover. “I mean, if we’re going to be serious…” He trailed off.

“If you wanted to.” Jim repeated, trying to stress his point. 

“It’s not about what I want.” Freddie frowned. “I want to make you happy. I can take anything.”

“Freddie-” Jim sighed and wrapped an arm around Freddie’s waist, tugging him closer. “Darling, you’ve- you’ve been trained to think like that about yourself, but you’re so important. If we decide that we want to do that, it won’t just be my decision.”

“I just-” Freddie went quiet. “You’re going to get bored of me.”

“Sweetheart, never.” Jim cupped his cheek lightly. “I’ll never get tired of you.”

“He used to say it all the time.” Freddie admitted. “I was boring, I was a prude, I was stupid, I was a failure of a father and a boyfriend and a husband, he was bored of me, he hated my body, he hated my voice, he hated my eyes, I was hideous to look at.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “But when he was in that kind of mood, we’d have sex and it- it hurt, but he’d be so much happier when he’d finished and he used to kiss me and hold me close and tell me that he was sorry for saying those things and that he was going to be a better person, he was going to look after me better.” He paused. “I really can take anything. It’s worth it for the bit after.”

“It doesn’t have to hurt.” Jim gently stroked his hair. “I don’t want you to just take anything I want. Sex is about love, darling, it’s a way of showing that you love someone, a way of making them feel incredible. If we were going to, I’d want you to be happy, I wouldn’t want you to put up with something. I want to kiss you and cuddle you regardless.”

Freddie’s cheeks reddened so noticeably that Jim could see it in the faint lamplight from the banks of the Thames. “So it’s a maybe?” He asked shyly.

“Maybe. If you wanted to, one day, then yes. If you never wanted to, then we wouldn’t.” Jim kissed him softly. “You’re beautiful, my darling, but your body isn’t the only thing I fell in love with.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead, peppering him with love. “Your mind is far more important.”

* * *

Jim smoothed the blanket over Freddie’s shoulder and turned off the bedroom light, checking that he was settled before he walked back upstairs to the lounge. “Daddy sleep?” Xavier asked, hugging onto Jim’s leg tightly.

Jim picked up his son and kissed his forehead. “Daddy is still getting better after going to the hospital, baby.” He explained. “It makes him sleepy because his body is working hard to fix itself up.”

Holly and Xavier were too little to understand why Freddie had been in hospital, but they trusted Jim endlessly to look after him and them. “Can I see Daddy?”

“Not right now, sweetheart. We need to let him sleep for a while.” He murmured soothingly. “Why don’t we play something while we wait for him to wake up?”

Xavier’s little face lit up: he loved playing with Jim. Freddie was insanely creative, while Jim was more methodical; Freddie was the best to draw pictures with, while Jim would help him build the biggest tracks for his train, climbing over the furniture for makeshift hills and valleys. “Trains!” He said excitedly.

“Good choice!” Jim put him back down on the floor as the phone started to ring. “You go and find the train set, baby, and I’ll be there once I’ve answered the phone.”

Xavier ran off and Jim picked up the phone. “Hello?” He answered. “This is Jim Hutton speaking.”

“Is this the correct number for Freddie Bulsara?” An unfamiliar voice asked.

Jim frowned, trying to avoid answering just in case. “Who’s speaking, please?”

“My name is DCI Beverley and I’m from the London Metropolitan Police. I’ve been given this number to contact Freddie Bulsara.” She replied. “Can I speak to him?”

“He’s currently in recovery from surgery. Can I take a message for him?” Jim asked.

“I really need to speak to him, I’m afraid.” She frowned. “Is there no way he can come to the phone?”

“He shouldn’t, really.” Jim’s confidence in his own judgement was wavering. “What’s it about?”

“It’s in regards to an arrest. I really can’t tell you anymore, sir, I’m sorry.” She apologised. “What would be a better time to call?”

“He’ll want to hear it.” Jim said quickly. “Can you hold for a minute?”

“Of course, sir, thank you.” She replied.

Jim ran downstairs to Freddie and gently shook him awake. “Darling, there’s a phone call for you.”

Freddie groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. “Tired.” He murmured.

“I know.” Jim said soothingly. “But it’s the police, sweetheart, and they said it’s something to do with an arrest.”

Freddie’s eyes widened. “Help?” He asked meekly.

“Of course.” Jim wound an arm around his waist and pulled him up to stand. “Are you okay to walk or do you want me to carry you?”

“Carry me.” Freddie yawned. “Fuck, I’m so tired.”

Jim picked him up easily. “I know, darling, you can go back to sleep in a minute.” He carried him up the stairs and sat him down by the phone, which Freddie picked up quickly.

“Hello?” He asked, stifling another yawn.

“Freddie Bulsara?” She asked.

“Yes.” He replied. “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to notify you that we might need your cooperation in a criminal case.” She told him. “Last night, a man named Paul Prenter was arrested for violent offences involving a knife in central London. However, he was unsure what he was being arrested for, he was intoxicated, and he mentioned crimes against your person which we would like to investigate.”

Freddie was quiet for a few moments. “What crimes?” He asked quietly.

“Grievous bodily harm and wounding with intent to kill, physical assault and sexual assault.” She replied. “Do you agree with any of those?”

Freddie’s hand found Jim’s and he squeezed it nervously. “Kind of.” He replied; he was caught between the truth and the loyalty he felt for his husband. He didn’t want him to be locked away forever. 

“Would you be happy to come down to Kensington police station and answer a few questions?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said, more quickly; he wondered if talking it through with a police officer would help him make logical sense of it. “When I’ve finished recovering.”

“Of course.” She replied. “Feel free to drop in at any time and ask for me. My name is DCI Beverley.” She repeated. “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

Freddie stared at the phone after she hung up. “They’ve arrested Paul.” He said quietly.

“What for?” Jim rubbed a hand on his back. 

“Assault with a knife.” Freddie murmured. “He told them about me. They want me to go and talk to them about him.”

“Are you going to?” Jim asked.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “Probably.”

Xavier hovered uncertainly in the doorway, holding a train in each hand. “Pop?” He asked hopefully. 

Jim stood up with a smile. “I’ll just help Daddy go back to bed, sweetness.”

Freddie shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “I want to play too.”

Xavier looked like all his Christmases had come at once. He ran over and handed Freddie a train, giving the other one to Jim, giggling incessantly. “I start build!” He told Jim excitedly.

“That’s amazing, sweetheart!” Jim helped Freddie up and they walked into the lounge together. “Let’s see what we can make together.”


	20. Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're both just so relieved that everything's beginning to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would be the final chapter if I felt like there weren't a lot of loose ends (r.e. prosecution, career etc.) and so we're going to do a part one/two idea (like in Incandescent - multiple parts within the same fic) because the theme of part one has clearly been about recovery and mental health while part two is going to be more focused on progression!

It had taken a week of careful rest, readjusting, recalibrating, until he wasn’t so sore anymore, until he was moving freely again, until his energy levels had crept up. It had taken a week to get here, watching his feet as his toes curled and flexed in tight pointe shoes, almost fascinated by the power he was building in his ankles, in the firm muscles of his calves, in the strong arch of his foot, stretched so far and so beautifully.

He leaned as far forward as he could, gripping the soles of his feet tightly, his chest touching his thighs as he breathed into the ache in his hamstrings. He’d been stretching meticulously, body aching with being so challenged after a week of pure relaxation, yet the pain was subsiding and he was relieved to finally return to normality.

He stood up, and then went up en pointe, admiring his form momentarily in the mirror before him. He’d avoided mirrors as much as he could since he’d gotten sick, not liking to remind himself that he stuck out amongst a crowd of perfect, young men, strong and lithe and healthy; he felt inadequate amongst people that never took days off sick, people that never struggled with anything they tried. Now, though, with the tube gone and the rash from the adhesive finally subsiding, he was beginning to feel whole again.

The button sat snugly against his stomach, only the slightest bump in the fabric of his shirt suggesting that there was anything different about him. When he looked up, now, looked hard at his own face, he stopped seeing himself overshadowed by his own illness. He started to see beauty, dark eyes and dark hair, determination in the lines around his eye, age becoming a marker of his wisdom, his experience, not another thing to measure him by, quantify.

He started turning, a few chaînes into an assemblé, letting himself finally feel beautiful while he danced instead of as though he was always playing catch up, too old, too slow, too hideous-

“My, my.” Came a voice from behind him, and Freddie turned quickly to see his lover standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, a bright beaming smile painted on his face. “I was wondering if you’d want a lift home, but it seems as though you’re doing wonderfully.”

Jim couldn’t stop himself from looking appreciatively over his boyfriend; he’d been painting again, pale pink this time, barely noticeable trails painted over the hollows of his muscles, making them look big, firm, beautiful. Freddie stopped shyly, one foot flat for balance but one still remaining en pointe, and wrapped one arm around himself self-consciously. “I’ve just been doing some stretching.” He offered by way of explanation.

“That was more than stretching, darling, wasn’t it?” Jim came closer and wound an arm around his waist. “I’ve never seen you dance before.”

Freddie blushed and rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “Just a few turns. They’re good for rehab work.” He paused for a moment and then smiled shyly. “I can dance for you if you’d like.”

Jim smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead. “I’d love that.” He said softly. 

“If you-” Freddie pecked his lips and then moved away, pulling up a chair for him. “You go there, that’s easiest for me.”

Jim let Freddie manoeuvre him and chuckled to himself. “Okay, darling.” He agreed. “What are you going to dance for me?”

Freddie thought for a moment, intermittently standing up en pointe and coming back down again. “The black swan solo.” He smiled. “From Swan Lake. We’re doing an all-male cast this year.”

“Are you playing the Black Swan?” Jim asked curiously.

“Oh, darling, definitely not.” Freddie shook his head. “I don’t even know if I’ve passed my audition yet, let alone if I’m going to be in the performance at all. Even if I am, I’ll be in the back of the chorus. I might understudy it if I’m lucky.” He shrugged. “There’s no chance I’ll ever dance a principal role. No one gets injured at Christmastime.”

“Don’t talk yourself down.” Jim insisted. “You could do it as well as anyone else, darling.”

Jim watched as Freddie leaned over to restart the record. In moments, he was taken aback by the strength, the beauty, the grace of his body as he seemed to react instinctively to what he heard, stretching up towards the heavens, his turns perfectly timed - Jim wondered how often he’d practised this.

It was only two minutes, but it was two minutes that Jim could’ve relived forever, watching in raptures with his lover drinking in the attention, finally looking just a little confident in himself.

“Freddie- oh!” Olga paused to watch him, glancing at Jim’s reaction. It was good to see someone so unconfident finally having someone to fight his side, to remind him of how talented he was in a way that she never could. When he finished, she couldn’t help but applaud. “Darling, that’s wonderful! Where did you learn to do that?”

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened as he looked between the stunned faces of his lover and his teacher, smiling shyly. “I taught myself.” He said softly. “I found a sheet where all the choreography was written down.”

“That’s absolutely incredible.” Jim murmured. “That was completely brilliant!”

“Wasn’t it just?” Olga smiled. “Would you like the good news or the good news, Freddie?”

He blushed further and sat down on the floor, resting after all the exertion. “I think I’d like the good news.” He smiled.

She sat down next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “We’d like you to dance with us permanently.” She murmured. “We’d like you to be a first soloist for us.”

Jim grinned as Freddie gasped, looking the happiest he’d seen him all along. “Is that both bits of good news?” Jim questioned. “You might kill him off with excitement at this rate.”

“You’re incredibly competent en pointe, if you didn’t know already.” Olga kissed his cheek playfully and Freddie laughed, clearly delighted. “I’d like you to work with Matthew on Odile or Odette.”

Freddie squealed but Jim looked completely blank; he didn’t understand the different roles just yet. “They’re the two typically feminine roles, but this Swan Lake has an all-male cast.” She told him. “And I think Freddie would be wonderful as either the White or Black Swan.”

As soon as Jim understood, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Oh, the White Swan, for sure.” He nodded. “A beautiful princess that everyone falls in love with? I think he fits in perfectly.”

Freddie ran over to him - how the hell he managed it in those shoes, he’d never know - and threw his arms around Jim. “I love you.” He murmured. “I love you, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Jim chuckled, holding him close. “I can’t wait to come and watch you.”

* * *

“Pop?” Holly crawled up onto Jim’s knee, her hair still damp from her bath, and rested her head against his chest. “What’s your job, Pop?”

“You know the answer to that, sweetheart.” Jim rubbed her back lightly. “I’m a doctor. I make people feel better.”

“Why doesn’t Daddy have a job?” She questioned, taking one of his hands and playing with his fingers. “Do you have to have a job?”

“Jobs are what get us money.” Jim explained. “Daddy doesn’t have to have a job because my job gets enough money for us to have everything we like. But Daddy does have a job now, sweetheart, because it’s something that he really wants to do.”

Holly lit up. “What’s Daddy’s job?” She asked. “Isn’t Daddy sick?”

“Not really, not anymore.” He smiled. “That’s why he went to the hospital for a little while, so they could make him all better. Your Daddy’s a ballet dancer.” 

“Can we watch?” Holly asked hopefully. 

“Definitely.” Jim agreed. “He’s going to be dancing like a swan at Christmas. We get to go and see him being very pretty up on stage.”

She smiled and looked down at her feet, pointing them in the same way as she’d seen Freddie do. “Papa said Daddy would always be too sick.”

“Absolutely not.” He sat back in his armchair and wrapped an arm around the little girl. “You don’t have to believe everything your Papa told you, baby. He’s not a very nice man.”

She nodded. “He’s not too sick.” She repeated. “Daddy’s better now.”

* * *

“How are you?” Jim laid his suit jacket over the back of the sofa and smiled at the look of his lover laid out on the sofa, legs thrown over the arm and book against his chest.

“Bored.” Freddie replied, kicking mindlessly at his IV pole when his pump started to beep. “Please force me to get some batteries next time we’re shopping. It beeps all the time.”

Jim leaned over and kissed him lightly. “You don’t usually eat at this time.”

“No.” He shrugged and sipped a little water: his doctor had encouraged him to keep drinking a little at a time, especially now he had the option to drain. “I usually dance for four hours but today I danced for five. The overnight feed balances out roughly how much I burn in a day, but now I’ve gone beyond that and I don’t want to lose any weight so I’ve put on this weird-” He grabbed the bottle, squinting at the tiny font. “Promote high protein nutrition thing. I’m not really supposed to feed like this, because I’ve obviously got paralysis and I could throw the whole thing up, but I’m trying to do it as fast as I can bear.”

“Are you feeling sick?” Jim questioned, sitting down beside him and taking his hand.

“Not yet.” Freddie smiled over at him. “Which I’m taking as a sign that the tube’s in a good place.” He rested his finger on his button and his smile widened. “I love this thing.”

“I’ve never heard someone so in love with a g-tube.” Jim laughed.

“It’s a g/j tube, darling.” Freddie mocked him playfully. “I really wanted tea earlier and I got like halfway through the mug and I was nearly sick and so I just drained it and then I felt fine. It means that I don’t have to spend my whole life feeling like I’m about to be sick.” He smiled. “It’s really liberating.”

“No one’s mentioned anything at the Royal?” Jim checked, tracing over his fingers. His hands were so elegant, so dainty, made strong and lithe from years of playing piano, and Jim loved to trace each of the bones, knuckles, right down to the beautiful bump of his wrists.

“One guy asked if I was hiding a snack for lunch.” Freddie rolled his eyes. “I showed him the button and he shut up pretty quickly. It’s weird being in main classes now, because no one really knows that I’m sick and no one’s guessed it yet.”

“You wouldn’t know, baby, it’s not obvious.” Jim promised. “You’re not really that sick, not anymore. You’re going to get back to a perfectly normal life.”

“More than normal.” Freddie lifted his leg and flexed his toes. “Better than normal. I never enjoyed normal.” He paused and then looked over at Jim with a smile. “Not like this.”

Jim leaned over and kissed him, smiling to himself. “I love you.” He whispered against his lips and then kissed him again. “I’m going to make tea, do you want one?”

Freddie smiled and wrapped an arm around his neck, kissing him once more. “I love you too, and I’d love one, darling. Go light on the milk, though, it makes me queasy.” He released him and watched as he walked away, closing his eyes and humming with content.

* * *

“How are you doing with identifying your triggers?” Harvey asked. She wasn’t blind to his improvement, nor was he above thanking her for all that she’d done for him; the first time he’d come to her, he was trembling like a leaf in the wind, feeling vulnerable to anything and everything, clutching a child’s blanket close for comfort. Now, though, he held himself a little more confidently, his spine a little straighter, his shoulders a little more set, as though he was less frightened of taking up space. “I know that being alone was a big one for you, have you found any others?”

“A lot of things are physical.” He explained. “Jim, he- the other night, we were just playing around, kissing and the like, and he grabbed my wrists in his hand and I had a panic attack.” He crossed his legs and looked away momentarily, as though he was embarrassed. “Jim didn’t mean anything nasty, he just wasn’t thinking, but it- it was how he used to hold me down if he punched me in the stomach. It just caught me off guard.”

“Did you talk to him about that?” She questioned.

“Not really.” He admitted. “He was really apologetic, he could tell that I didn’t like being held like that. He sat with me until I’d calmed down and helped me get my breathing back under control and everything.” He couldn’t help if he smiled a little, though it was reluctant. “It was the nicest attack I’ve ever had, weirdly.”

“I suppose that your reaction is, within itself, a form of communication.” She nodded. “Can I speak to you about Jim?”

Freddie nodded, fiddling with his fingers. “What about him?”

“Obviously, as you know, your case is very multi-agency.” She told him. “Now that the police, the hospital, social services and your psychiatrists are involved, we all keep a thread of communication open just in case anything happens that makes us concerned for your safety and the safety of your kids.”

“Where is this going?” He asked warily.

“The police raised a welfare concern for you.” She told him. “When they spoke to Jim on the phone, his reluctance to let you speak worried them, especially considering your history.”

Freddie immediately looked relieved. “Darling, that was nothing, honestly.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if we’re a little nervous of your definition of nothing.” She told him. “Why didn’t he want you to speak?”

“You can check my medical records.” He told her. “I had surgery the day before and it was- it was really difficult, I was in a lot of pain and I was really sick. When we came home, he knew I needed to rest a lot and so he didn’t want to wake me unless it was really necessary. He wanted to know if it was something I really needed to wake up for.”

“You’re absolutely sure that you’re completely content with your relationship?” She checked. “You don’t feel controlled? There’s no shame if you do, and if you do we can help you. Sometimes, people can choose people that are vulnerable because they’re less likely to ask for help.”

“I’m okay.” He promised her, cheeks warming. “I’m really okay this time. I- I appreciate it that you all care, but Jim isn’t that kind of man, not at all. When you see him in emergency, that’s who he really is, he’s genuinely that level-headed and lovely.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust him.” She said quickly. “We’d do the same if it was anyone. We just really want you to be safe.”

“I am.” Freddie promised. “I’m so okay. We’re all safe, we’re happy, we’re genuinely okay.”

_ “What are you doing?” Jim asked, laughing at the sight of the children tangling up fairy lights while Freddie tried to wind them around the fence around the boat.  _

_ “The boat is really dark at night.” Freddie took a length from Xavier and wound it around the flagpole. “We wanted to make it light again!” _

_ Jim knelt beside him and started to help him. “These are going to look so beautiful.” _

_ “I always think that the Chelsea embankment looks Christmassy at night.” Freddie smiled. “When Xavier was still a baby, I used to walk around here with him in his big pram and all the cobblestones would put him to sleep.” _

_ “It’s ever since they’ve done up Albert Bridge.” Jim smiled. “And that comes alive at night. I think it’s simply gorgeous.” _

_ “Now the boat can match.” Freddie smiled. “Light in amongst the darkness.” _

“So long as you’re sure.” Harvey checked once more, but Freddie just smiled.

_ “I- Jim!” Freddie laughed as Jim took the pen from between his fingers and sat down next to him. “I have to fill out these forms.” _

_ “Oh, fuck the forms.” He smiled. “Kiss?” _

_ “I have to-” _

_ “Please?” Jim asked, trying his best puppy dog eyes, and Freddie couldn’t help but relent, losing himself to the warmth of love that he was coming to trust. _

“I’m sure, darling.” Freddie repeated. “I promise.”

END OF PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All male Swan Lake is a real thing, created by Matthew Bourne, and you can see it some years at Sadler's Wells theatre in London!


	21. Manon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's found where he belongs.

“Do I have a single fucking principal dancer this side of London that isn’t injured?” Olga asked exasperatedly. “I need someone to cover Alex, he was fucking screaming off stage, you could hear him out in the auditorium. They’ve had to blue light him over to UCLH.”

“How long until the third act?” Jacqui asked, tapping her fingers on the wall beside them.

“Twenty-five minutes!” She replied, clearly stressed. “I need the list of dancers left in the building, see if anyone’s come for Brian’s technical class.”

“Darling!” Jacqui cut her off quickly with a hand on her shoulder. “Just use the understudy, it’ll be fine.”

“Alex was the understudy!” She rolled her eyes. “Steven’s wife’s in labour and so Alex had to dance.”

“Shit.” She replied. “I’ll go and find the sign in sheet and see who’s still in.”

Olga ran after her. “Any principals?” She asked hopefully.

Jacqui scanned the sheet. “Only David and Anthony, but they’re already performing.”

She rubbed her forehead wearily. “First soloists?” She asked desperately. 

“James, Cesar, Fumi and Freddie.” She reeled off. “Any good?”

“Freddie.” She replied. “If he knows the choreography, he’ll be good.”

“He’ll be with Brian.” Jacqui agreed. “I’ll go backstage, you run upstairs and find him.”

_ Freddie loved these sweet little evening classes, long after the children’s bedtime, when he’d had the time to run a feed without rushing to bolus himself another energy gel, to sleep if he needed to, to wash and care for the delicate skin around his tube that so often reddened if he put too much strain on his core. These classes were sleepy, lazy, perfecting moves they’d been learning since childhood; he loved to know that he was doing everything right, and he loved to be corrected - he loved to know that he wasn’t risking injury with every landing he took. He loved the personal attention away from the hustle of a class of a hundred, Brian’s gentle hands lowering his left shoulder just a little as he adjusted his port de bras, eyes casting over him and nodding appreciatively when he made little alterations without complaint. _

_ Jim had promised to look after the children so that he was free to dance into the evening, into the night, long after the sun, sleepy herself, had taken her rest behind the horizon of Canary Wharf skyscrapers and had left London’s light to the job of firelight and bright electric street lamps. He loved to watch the sun, languid and heavy as she slunk out of his line of sight, throwing her last colours through the glass to the side of the Clore studio: he loved to use her tiredness to reinvigorate his own fire, as though he himself could throw the same shards of light onto the watery plain of the Thames. Her pinks and blues and oranges, scarlets and golds, seemed to celebrate the point of his toes and the graceful extension of the arch of his back as one star giving way to another; she acknowledged that her own beauty would be overshadowed by his grace and made way for him as a student to their master. _

“Freddie?” Olga opened the door, trying not to break the quiet trance that had seemed to settle across the room. “Freddie, darling, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Freddie opened his eyes and quickly came back to centre from where he’d been cooling down mindlessly, stretching with the aid of the barre. “Of course.” He smiled, stepping outside when she held the door open for him; she noted mindlessly how he ran with his toe first, his heel lagging, even at the end of the day when he should’ve been oh-so-tired and slipping back into the natural routine of his body. “How can I help?”

He stood in third even when his toes had sunk into plush carpet instead of familiar vinyl, smiling so earnestly, so open and full and warm of heart; she had to have him. There was no man who could better play courage in all its guises. “My principal for Des Grieux has just been taken over to A&E.” She told him. “It looks like an Achilles injury. He was already the understudy, meaning I’m looking for someone else to dance the third act.”

Freddie looked aghast. “And you’re asking me?” He asked shyly.

“You’ve performed Manon before, haven’t you?” She asked hopefully. 

“About a year ago.” He bit his lip nervously. “But I’ve never rehearsed with this cast, I mean, they might do it differently.”

“We use Macmillan’s choreography to the letter.” She promised him. “If you know the steps then you’re my only hope, darling.”

Freddie still faltered, glancing down at his own feet whilst simultaneously willing himself to be brave, to seize an opportunity that might never come again. “How big is the audience?”

“We’ve got a full house.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t want to let them down, darling. Are you well enough to do it?”

He hadn’t yet tried anything as intense as Manon since having his tube fitted, but he’d been practicing some lifts earlier in the day and nothing had seemed to dislodge or become irritated. “I think so.” He replied. “I- I can give it a go.” He agreed.

* * *

Freddie was flushed and glowing as he held an arm out to the audience, wanting nothing more than to thank them for the one opportunity he’d gotten, the chance to dance for half an hour in front of them, the chance to embody emotional agony to the extent that it brought a tear to the eye, far beyond him and into the depth of the heavens, hastily hidden by opera glasses. He wanted to thank them for giving him the chance, for roaring in appreciation when he bowed alone, for not knowing that he was sick and old and just giving him the chance to be one of the others; he wanted to buy a rose for every single one, men, women, and children, just to thank them for catapulting him to being on top of the world.

“You little star!” Olga threw her arms around him and kissed his glowing cheek. “Freddie Bulsara, you saved it!”

Des Grieux’s jacket was a little loose around his middle, and she knew immediately that she’d have to get another one commissioned for him to reprise the role later in its running: there was no way she could tease an audience with a half an hour of his commitment and then subject him to background roles for the rest of the season. Freddie touched his hand to his burning cheek and smiled bashfully as he was showered with praise, feeling as though he could float away on his own hot air balloon, propelled only by the love for everyone and everything that he felt. “Thank you for giving me a chance.” He murmured by way of response.

Sarah plucked a rose from her bouquet and tucked it into the pocket of his costume’s jacket, smiling to herself. “This is for knowing the steps better than Alex did.” She joked, her million-watt smile outshining the drabness of her outfit. “And for making sure my head didn’t hit the floor when I fell.”

“Thank you.” Freddie took a red-stained lip print to the cheek and his smile grew impossibly wider. “Thank you for not freaking out when you were paired with a one-month-old first soloist when you definitely should have had a principal.”

It took him fifteen minutes of kisses and gifts to get to the front desk so that he could call Jim; he didn’t want him worrying when he was definitely going to be later back than he’d anticipated. He dialled the number for home as quickly as he could, sitting up on the desk and occasionally blowing kisses at people as they walked past with nothing but praise for him. “Hello?” Jim’s voice, tired and worried, flooded his ears and suddenly it was all he could focus on. 

“Darling-” Freddie sounded almost childlike in his excitement. “I got to dance, I got to go onstage early, I got to cover after an injury-”

“Freddie?” Jim perked up when he heard how excited he was. “Darling, sweetheart, slow down-” He laughed. “What happened?”

“Alex injured himself in act two of Manon.” Freddie explained breathlessly. “So I danced Des Grieux for act three. I went on stage and danced a principal role and no one even batted an eyelid at me. They gave me irises and lilies and then Sarah gave me a rose for doing such a good job.”

“That’s incredible!” Jim said excitedly. “Darling, that’s so amazing!”

“I felt so good.” Freddie smiled up at the noise of the bar above him, at people still queueing for the cloakroom, at the general hustle and life around him; he’d never felt more at home in a place. “I think I can die happy now.”

Jim chuckled sleepily and sat down on the floor beside the phone. “Hopefully this won’t be the last time you can do it for them.”

“Who knows?” Freddie lifted his foot and pointed his toes, still snug and safe in their white boots. “I’ve never felt anything like that before. It was just like- like my brain turned itself off for a little while, and I couldn’t think, all I could do was dance and just feel. Suddenly I wasn’t worried about anything.”

“You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.” Jim murmured. “You’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do. You made it, darling, despite everything, because this is what you’re meant to do.”

“I love you.” Freddie crossed his legs and smiled. “I’m just going to get this makeup cleaned up and change and then I’ll get the Piccadilly to South Ken.” He told him.

“Do you want me to pick you up from the station?” Jim asked softly.

“You stay with the little ones.” Freddie insisted. “I’ll be okay. It’s only a twenty-minute walk, darling, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll bring the little ones in the car.” He replied. “Let me pick you up, sweetheart, it’s late and cold out.”

Freddie almost couldn’t believe that he’d gotten someone so lovely, someone who cared so dearly about him, enough to come and pick him up at half eleven so that he didn’t have to walk alone. “Okay.” He smiled. “But you stay in the car, I’ll come out to you. I’ll try and get the 11:15 train.”

“I’ll be there, darling.” Jim smiled. “We all will.”

* * *

“Freddie, darling-” Olga opened the door without knocking, and Freddie squeaked in surprise, running behind a screen as quickly as he could. He was wearing only his dance belt, halfway out of his tights, entirely shirtless - a little more than he needed anyone to see. “I’m sorry!” She apologised quickly. “I thought you’d be dressed by now.”

Freddie wasn’t about to admit that he’d spent ten minutes posing in the mirror, admiring the needlework of the costume, the way his legs looked so powerful in the white tights, how strong he felt. “Just give me-” He kicked them off and swapped into his briefs quickly, buttoning his jeans and then realising that, in his haste, he’d forgotten to grab his t-shirt.

His cheeks pinkened as he walked out from behind the screen, forever self-conscious, and went to grab for it. “Before you do-” Olga softened her voice, trying not to embarrass him. “Could I take your measurements?”

“My measurements?” Freddie echoed dumbly, holding the shirt in front of his button. “Why?”

“Because I’d like to fit your costume properly. You’re a little smaller than my other Des Grieux boys, you’d pair perfectly with Francesca, but I could tell the waistcoat was annoying you a little when you were dancing that first pas de deux.” She smiled. “Can I?”

“You’d like me to dance it again?” He asked shyly.

“Of course I would.” She squeezed his hand. “You were delightful, darling, I can’t wait to see the reviews in the paper tomorrow.”

Freddie placed the t-shirt down on the sofa beside him and walked over to her. “Which measurements do you need?”

“Shoulders, chest, waist, hips and inside leg.” She told him. “Is that okay?”

He nodded and smiled shyly. “I’m not used to all this.” He admitted bashfully. “All my costumes just used to be pinned in at the waist.”

“I’ll have it tailored for you.” She smiled. “Would you like to dance it again?”

“As many times as possible.” Freddie grinned as she measured around his shoulders. “I have to feel that again. It’s torture to be so close and so far.”

“Alex was supposed to dance it three more times.” She told him. “Would you like to cover those?”

“I’d love to.” Freddie smiled, his heart beating as though it were trying to escape from the confines of his chest. 

* * *

“I’m so proud of you.” Jim kissed his cheek and wound an arm around his shoulders as he sat cleaning his button. “I’m so glad you went out there and showed them exactly what you could do.”

Freddie smiled and snuggled into his side. “They want me to dance it another three times.” He said softly, grabbing his giving tube and connecting it. “Which means I get the chance to show them that I have the stamina to dance for a whole three hour ballet.”

“What days are you doing it?” Jim asked hopefully. “Can I come?”

“You’d have to get a babysitter or give the children to my parents. It’s not suitable for them.” He leaned up to programme his pump. “I’ve got one next week and the others in the first week of November, then we go into Swan Lake for Christmastime.”

“I’m sure my mother would love to take them for the evening.” Jim insisted. “I really want to see you dance, darling.”

“You definitely can.” Freddie kissed his cheek as he primed his tube and then finally connected it into his feed. “Done.” He cleaned off his hands and flopped back dramatically on the bed. “One day someone will come up with something that you can do ten times quicker.”

Jim lay beside him and kissed him softly. “I was talking to some of the guys over in gastro today because I sat with them for lunch. They’ve just be cleared to start using this new technology.”

“Oh?” Freddie asked, snuggling against Jim’s chest. “What is it?”

“You know pacemakers?” He questioned. “The way they shock your heart to keep it working regularly? Well, someone’s designed something similar, but for your stomach.” He combed his fingers through Freddie’s hair gently. 

“So it forces your stomach to work?” Freddie frowned, not quite understanding.

“It shocks the muscles in the same way as your nerves usually do. It replicates what your nerves can’t do anymore.” Jim explained.

Freddie propped himself up on one elbow. “Could I have it?”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll mean you can eat normally again.” Jim smiled. “Maybe I’ll be able to take you out for a restaurant date.”

The idea made Freddie beam with happiness. “That’ll be so much easier than stomaching three litres of this a day.” He twiddled his tube around his fingers. “Being able to eat instead of having to bolus that energy gel.”

“It’s the simple pleasures, darling.” Jim took his fingers and squeezed his hand lightly. “You’ve gone shaky, are you okay?”

Freddie looked down at his fingers and wrinkled his nose. “I’ve probably gone hypo again.” He shrugged. “That’s the other thing about this fucking illness that’s the worst. I can’t even just eat sweets like other people because I’ll be sick.”

Jim kissed the top of his head. “I’ll talk to them about you having it. We could go mid-November so that it doesn’t disrupt your season.”

“Sounds good.” Freddie grinned, giddy with excitement. “Thank you for looking after me so well.”

“Thank you for being a delight to look after.” Jim kissed his nose and pulled the blanket up over both of them. “I love you.”

Freddie snuggled down against his chest again and then kissed the soft skin beside his lips. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually went to see Manon live at the Royal Opera House on Wednesday and it was genuinely one of the best experiences ever and so this was totally inspired by that!


	22. Sandwiches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's everything he wanted and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not happy with how this came out at all!!!!! But it's an important plot point so I'm going to cut this chapter a little short and then we can have some cute non-medical chapters now!!

“You’re never not here.” Matthew chuckled and slung an arm around Jim’s shoulders. “How are you doing? Have you got a meeting or something?”

Jim sat a little more upright and clicked his knuckles. “Freddie’s in surgery.” He replied quietly. “I shouldn’t really just be hanging around, I’m driving myself mad, I just want to scrub up and barge in there myself just to see what’s going on.”

“Definitely not a good plan.” Matthew conceded, rubbing his shoulder. “He’ll be fine, you know he will. Is it emergency or planned?”

“Planned. He’s having a pacemaker fitted.” He fiddled nervously with his fingers. “It’s just taking so long, it should’ve taken a couple of hours but he’s been in there for nearly four now. I- I don’t want anything to have gone wrong, you know?”

“I’m sure it won’t.” Matthew promised. “He’s got the tube, hasn’t he? It’s probably just a bit more difficult because they have to skirt around that and make sure they don’t displace it.”

“You’re probably right.” Jim agreed. “I’m going to have to call someone and ask them to pick up the kids. I don’t want to leave him here if he wakes up all bruised or if it makes him sick or whatever.”

“You worry too much. You know all the guys, you know that they’ll look after him. He’s in safe hands.” Matthew soothed him. “C’mon, why don’t we go and get a coffee while we wait on news? I’m due my lunch now anyway.”

* * *

“Good evening, darling.” Jim pressed a kiss to the back of Freddie’s hand, careful not to touch his IV line; he could only imagine that he was aching head to toe. His lover’s eyelids fluttered a little as he turned towards him, stretching out and then wincing. “You’re okay, angel, you’re okay.”

Freddie opened his eyes slowly, gradually focusing on Jim’s face. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.” He croaked.

“I’m not surprised, sweetheart, you’ve had one hell of a ride.” Jim pressed a kiss to his forehead and Freddie smiled. 

“Have I?” Freddie yawned and stretched again. “How long was I out for?”

“Six hours.” Jim ran his hands through Freddie’s hair. “Because you haven’t run any feeds for the last few days, your potassium levels were low, so your body starting seizing. They had to wake you up, get your levels back to normal, get your blood pressure up and then go again.”

Freddie rubbed his eye. “Why don’t I remember that?”

“You’ve been on and off awake for the last twenty minutes, darling.” Jim smiled. “You would still have been fuzzy at that time, they only wanted you awake enough to check that you were responsive.”

“Was it all okay, though?” Freddie lay back amongst the pillows as Jim started to stroke his cheek in a regular rhythm. “Is it all fitted?”

“It’s all done, sweetness.” Jim said softly. “We’ll turn it on when you’re a bit more awake and see if we can run a feed through your gastric side without being sick.”

“Will I still have to do feeds?” Freddie questioned.

“It depends on how you’re doing at that time. It’s not guaranteed to make you able to eat all the time, but hopefully as you’ll still be healing and your case isn’t the most severe, you might only have to do them every few weeks.” Jim kissed his knuckles gently. 

“Can I try eating something?” Freddie asked hopefully.

“We’ll probably stick to drinking at first, so you can drink tea and juice and water, and then we’ll try some food.” Jim smiled at how happy Freddie looked. “You’ll be in hospital for a few days, darling, you should be able to come home on Wednesday.”

Freddie pouted. “Do I have to?” He yawned. “What about the children?”

“Yes, darling, you have to. Think about what might happen if you were to have another one of those seizures if you were home with the children by yourself, that would be dangerous for all of you.” Jim kissed him softly. “They’re with Kash. I think your mother’s there too, I phoned her to let her know what was going on and she said she’d go down to help her look after them. Two toddlers is a handful when you’re not used to it.”

“Thank you for looking after them.” His cheeks pinkened and he smiled. “I miss them.”

“They’ll be doing bathtime now.” Jim kissed the back of his knuckles. “Do you want me to stay the night with you or would you rather just rest?”

Freddie’s eyelids fluttered a little, heavy with his tiredness, and he clutched closer to his lover. “Stay.” He murmured. “Stay, please.”

Jim leaned over the bed to brush his hair back from his face and smiled. “Rest, darling, I’ll stay.”

* * *

Freddie frowned and looked himself over in the mirror, running his hand over his stomach. “I look all wrong.” He murmured.

“You look wonderful, sweetheart.” Jim wrapped his arms around his waist. “You’re just a little bloated, that’s all.”

“I’ve lost muscle off my legs.” Freddie pouted. “I didn’t want to.”

“I know, baby.” Jim kissed his cheek. “It’s only a week of restricted eating, hopefully you’ll put it back on as soon as you start eating again.”

“Freddie?” The nurse came into the room and they jumped apart, Freddie blushing scarlet. “How are you doing, darling?”

“I’m okay.” He replied shyly, taking Jim’s hand and squeezing it as an apology for being negative.

“We were thinking of turning on your pacemaker if you’re feeling up to it.” She smiled. “You should be healed enough now. We were thinking we could just start with a cup of tea and see how that goes, but you can still drain if you need to.”

Freddie’s face suddenly lit up at the promise that his body might be ready to return to normality. “Absolutely.” He sat back on the bed and pulled his shirt off so that she could turn it on.

“Why don’t I make that tea?” Jim smiled. “I’ll make it how you like it, darling.”

“Thank you.” Freddie smiled over at him as it was quickly turned on. “You know, I expected it to feel like something.” He admitted.

“That would be strange, wouldn’t it?” She chuckled. “You’re not supposed to really feel it or see it.”

“Is this going to mean that I can eat anything?” He asked, sounding a little naive.

“It depends.” She said gently. “We’ll reintroduce things a little at a time, especially as you heal more and more.”

“What else can I have now?” He questioned.

“Tea, soup, mashed potato, white bread, and also your regular feeds just to make sure you’re getting all of your nutrition. General soft foods for now, and try to avoid anything too complex like raw fruits and vegetables.” She rubbed his shoulder. “Jim can help you.”

“He knows more about nutrition than I do.” Jim came over with two cups of tea and handed one to Freddie. “Let’s see how this goes.”

* * *

“It’s been what? Five hours?” Freddie knelt beside him excitedly. “Come on, you know I would’ve been sick by now if I was going to be.”

“You’re probably right.” Jim conceded and pulled him closer against his chest. “Do you want to try something solid?”

“Yes!” He squeaked. “Just like- some bread or something. You have no idea what it’s like to not chew anything for such a long time.”

“The nurse did leave us something to try if you felt like it.” Jim leaned over the bed and picked it up. “Fancy a sandwich?”

“I can’t believe a sandwich makes me want to dribble.” He reached for one and smiled. “Go slow, I know, chew everything as much as I can and drink between mouthfuls.” He said quickly, beating Jim to it. 

“Show off.” Jim chuckled. “You’re more of a doctor than I am.”

“I just want to be able to go home, I’m not going to sabotage myself.” He kissed Jim’s cheek and carefully tore a corner from his sandwich. “I miss the kids.”

* * *

The fresh air felt good against his skin, and Jim’s arm felt good around his waist, and he had never felt better about himself; he hadn’t been sick in twelve hours even though he’d eaten and drank in that time. He felt, for the first time, as though he were finally getting his own body back.

Holly held onto Xavier’s hand resolutely, immediately looking after him as soon as their father wasn’t around to do it for her. She looked around nervously for Jim - as much as she loved her Pop, she didn’t trust him in the same way as she trusted her Daddy - and Freddie saw the moment that her eyes landed on him again.

“Daddy!” Her little voice was almost a scream as she ran for her father as fast as she could, throwing her arms around his neck as he leaned down to hug her. “Daddy, Daddy!” She kicked her little legs excitedly.

“Careful, sweetheart.” Freddie held her closely to his chest, kissing the top of her hair. He felt almost choked by the strength of his emotion for the little girl, how much he’d missed her and her brother, how much he loved them even though they’d felt like an intrusion at first - they may have been forced onto him, but he’d never loved anyone more than them. “Daddy’s a little sore.”

She tucked her face against his neck and squeezed her little arms around him. “I missed you.” She murmured.

“I missed you too.” Freddie kissed her temple and smiled when she leaned up to kiss his cheek. “So much, darling. Nothing’s the same without you and Avi.”

“Are you better now, Daddy?” She asked. 

“Yes, sweetheart.” Freddie pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and smiled when she squealed with laughter. “Yes, I’m all better now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you guys prefer shorter chapters (around this length) 4/5 times a week or longer chapters (like previous chapters of Peccant) 2/3 times a week? Unfortunately I don’t have time to maintain a daily upload schedule of longer chapters, so I’d love to know which you prefer!


	23. Botanical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes they diverge from the norms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 is perilously slow this evening and I've had it come up 6 times that the server is overloaded so hopefully this will upload properly! Also since when did we write from Bomi's perspective - no idea, but it just happened!

A few mishaps, a few misprogrammings, were all things that Freddie considered par for the course: sometimes he’d drink too quickly, or he’d drink too much, or he’d eat something that disagreed with him that day, or he’d flare up and his body wouldn’t want to take solids, and he’d end up being sick. It embarrassed him every time - the one time it had happened in a rehearsal room, he’d nearly cried with embarrassment - but he was getting better at recognising the signs, slowing down, knowing when he needed to stop. 

The feeling of satiety was the biggest thing he’d missed, the satisfaction that came with a full stomach after working his body hard all day, something his feeds had never been able to replicate: though he hadn’t felt hunger when he’d been ill, he also hadn’t felt the heavy, happy sleepiness that came after dinner. 

“What are you eating?” Jim chuckled, walking into the room with Xavier on his hip. Freddie took a moment to appreciate the sight, his lover drowned in pajama pants and a t-shirt, carefully supporting their little boy as though he was the sweetest, most precious treasure, like fine blown glass or delicate porcelain; he took a moment to embrace the feeling of love swelling in his heart, still feeling so new, so fragile, despite the months of experience between them. “I can hear you crunching from down the hallway.”

“Pomegranate seeds.” Freddie showed him the bowl and smiled. “I know, I know, I’m not supposed to eat much fruit. I’ve been going to McKay’s for so long that they just make me up a box of whatever’s seasonal and going cheap, I didn’t know how to say no.”

“They’re simple sugar, I won’t tell you off.” Jim winked and sat beside him, stealing a spoonful for himself. “How are you this morning?”

Freddie snuggled into his side, by now an instinctive move; where he’d once been so frightened of touching, of getting too close, he now indulged in the feeling of warmth and closeness of another body beside him. “I’m pretty good.” He kissed his lover’s jaw lightly. “I slept well, for once.”

“I could tell.” Jim chuckled and wound an arm around his waist. “I woke up at about three and you were exactly where you were when we both fell asleep.”

“And then you woke me up.” Freddie pouted petulantly.

“It was a choice between move you off of my chest or wet the bed, darling, I’m sure you’d rather I woke you up for a few seconds.” Jim kissed his temple. “How’s your stomach?”

“Behaving itself.” Freddie chuckled. “I didn’t fancy risking it this morning, though, so I thought I’d go light.” He held out the bowl as proof.

“Are you dancing today? Because you should probably have something else, too.” Jim trailed his fingers mindlessly along his side. In the two weeks since he’d had the pacemaker fitted, he’d already noticed his body fill out a little more; his feed had done well to preserve his muscles, but now he could add to it by eating properly, his muscles were beginning to bulk out more, building more power beneath Jim’s gentle fingers. 

“Not today.” Freddie murmured. “Thursdays off, remember. My poor body’s tired out.” He looked down at himself, and he had to admit that he was thrilled to see the change in his image, the building of his legs, chest and shoulders, the building of his confidence along with it, his belief in himself. “I’ve got a nice quiet day. What time are you working?”

“Starting at nine.” Jim yawned and kissed Freddie’s temple. “I’m in children’s today. I’m doing a short shift because I’ve done a whole bunch of early mornings recently.”

“We should do something when you get home.” Freddie linked their fingers and squeezed his lightly. 

“Oh?” Jim smiled. “Are you in the mood for something?”

“My mum wants the kids for the evening and I wasn’t about to say no.” Freddie chuckled. “We don’t get much time to be a couple, I thought it might be nice to just- to do something.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Jim grinned excitedly. “Can I surprise you?”

“If you want to.” Freddie’s cheeks pinkened and he cuddled closer to his lover. “What should I wear?”

“Something casual. Shoes to walk in.” Jim chuckled. “We’ll come back and get changed before we go out again.”

* * *

Her crying was slowing as Jim rubbed slow circles on her back, taking a moment to separate themselves from the rest of the emergency department, from the hustle around them, from the incessant screech of machines, the requests for blood and adrenaline and amoxicillin and a thousand other things that swirled through her mind. Every image flashed up as though she was stood in Piccadilly Circus, twisting this way and that to try to escape every picture of her daughter in theatre, everything she’d hoped they could delay for months, even weeks, every moment of her daughter’s deterioration that she’d never wanted to watch.

“She will be okay.” Jim promised. “She’s in good hands, the best. She came in in plenty of time, we can help her.”

“I know, I know, I just- it’s so hard.” She let out a shaky breath and wiped her eyes carefully. “She’s my little girl, she’s- I just want to give her a hug and make it all better.”

“I know.” Jim soothed. “We all want to look after our children, we all want to keep them safe. It’s hard when they’re not in their own beds, when we can’t cook them their favourite foods and keep them clean and warm.” He clasped his hands together. “But you should know that there’s no one I’d rather leave my children with than the doctors here.”

“Do you have kids of your own?” She asked quietly.

“Two little ones.” Jim smiled. “I have a three year old girl and a two year old son. I know exactly what it’s like.”

“Are they sick?” She questioned. “Like Lara?”

“Not my children. But my partner, he’s like your daughter, he’s on feeds too. He’s been through a lot of the same surgeries. They’ve looked after him very well.” He explained. 

“Is he better now?” She murmured. “How long did it take?”

“He’s as better as he can be at this time.” He said judiciously. “He’s got a tube, like your little girl, and he’s got a pacemaker, and he can eat almost normally now. He can eat enough to maintain his career, and he’s a dancer.”

The woman seemed to relax a little. “Lara loves her dancing.” She said mindlessly. “What dancing does he do?”

“He’s a ballet dancer.” Jim smiled. “He trains five hours a day and then does shows, and he has the energy and strength to do that on feeds.”

“Does he struggle with feeds?” She asked. “I’m scared they’ll take hours, or they’ll distract her from doing what she needs to do, her schoolwork and her dance classes and everything.”

“You can run them at night.” Jim explained. “He runs them for about twelve hours, from half seven to half seven. He doesn’t have to worry about it during the day.”

“She doesn’t have to do them during the day?” She asked. “Don’t they hurt? Will they keep her awake?”

“It depends.” He said carefully. “A doctor should go through it with you and you can set the rate so that it isn’t hard on her body. They’ll take good care of her.” He repeated.

“Thank you.” She murmured and smiled over at him. “It’s so tough, it’s- it’s nice to know that your family can do it.”

“Every family can do it.” He rubbed her back. “She’ll be okay. Keep me up to date, won’t you?”

“Of course, of course.” She promised. “It would be nice to meet your partner. I’m sure Lola would love to meet him.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’m sure I could get you some tickets, a chance to come and see his world, if that’s the sort of thing she’d like.” Jim smiled.

She gasped and her face seemed to light up. “Oh, she’d love that! That would- that’s such a lovely thing for her to look forward to!”

* * *

The quiet was so fragile that Freddie felt as though he could shatter it by stepping too heavily, brushing too hard against a flower; a butterfly brushed against his nose and he laughed despite himself, tickled and happy and open and warm, and immediately flushed when his eyes met Jim’s.

But there was a look in there that he’d never had directed at him before, a raw and honest love and adoration, a physical embodiment of the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him on a near daily basis. If Freddie had to describe it as something, he’d describe it as a flower, freshly growing by the side of a stream, marshmallow pink and marshmallow soft and marshmallow sweet: so delicate, so gentle, so intense, standing up amongst the buttercups and the peonies and the lilies. It blossomed whenever they met eyes, promising something more, something better, something so wonderful and incredible that Freddie had only ever dreamed of, guilty in the dead of night, dreaming of a lover to whisk him away in the middle of the night, his very own fairytale.

Surrounded by trees, surrounded by flowers, surrounded by birds and bees and butterflies, leaves crunching underfoot, Freddie had never felt more in love.

“It’s so beautiful.” He murmured, cheeks pinkening as Jim plucked a flower from a branch and twirled it in his hair. “I didn’t know places like this exist in London.”

“I thought you’d like it here.” Jim smiled. “It’s one of my favourite places in the whole world. You forget that the city exists outside, and it’s just- it’s so quiet.” He paused for a moment, admiring the silence. “The only thing that makes me sad in life is that I don’t have a garden.”

“Would you like one?” Freddie asked, taking his hand and squeezing his fingers.

“I’d love one. Just a little piece of wilderness.” Jim looked around and took in the sweetness of the flowers, smiling to himself. “If I didn’t have the boat then I’d have a little house with a huge garden.”

“Maybe a big house now.” Freddie smiled, warm and open; he loved listening to Jim talk about his passions. “What with my house of kids.”

“A big house with a huge garden.” Jim chuckled. “That sounds like a stately home.”

“What would you grow?” Freddie asked, stepping carefully on the pathway as to not crush anything underfoot. “Flowers or fruit?”

“God, everything.” Jim grinned. “I’d have big botanical spaces and I’d grow huge fruit trees and I’d have a veg patch and everything. Cauliflower, broccoli, potatoes, artichoke, apples, pomegranates, chillis, strawberries-” He trailed off and picked a peach from a tree, handing it to Freddie with a smile. “Everything.”

“If I grew one thing, it’d be peaches.” Freddie bit into it, indulging in the freshness, the sweetness, as the juice exploded over his tongue. “I’d be terrible at it. I can’t keep anything alive.”

“Apart from two tiny, completely dependent children.” Jim pointed out. 

“Plants don’t walk up to you and say ‘Daddy, I’m hungry’.” He arched an eyebrow. “Children are far easier.”

Jim laughed and tilted his chin up to kiss him gently. “You only have to water plants.”

“And feed them, and dig out the weeds, and cover them when it’s cold, and prune them, and everything else.” Freddie stood on his toes to kiss him back. “You wash and feed children and you put them to bed.”

“Plants don’t have nightmares.” Jim rested his hands lightly on Freddie’s waist. “You’re right, though. Children are better than plants.”

“I’d love to see them all grown up.” Freddie smiled. “Like if I could just throw myself into the future for a few minutes, and I could see what they were doing with their lives. I’d love to know what jobs they’re going to do, if they’ll have a family, that kind of thing. I’d like to know how much they take after me.”

“I think they’ll take after you an awful lot, sweetness.” Jim smiled. “And me, I hope.”

“You’ve taught them love.” Freddie said softly. “That’s the most important thing that they’ll ever learn. You’ve taught them what love looks like.”

“I’m so glad that I have you.” Jim paused and pulled him close. “I’m so glad I got you out of there, fuck.”

“I’m so glad you got me out of there.” Freddie echoed, smiling shyly. “I was- God, I was desperate, I would’ve done anything. Anything could’ve happened, I could’ve met anyone, they could’ve made me do anything for money or shelter or anything. All you ever wanted me to do was be safe.”

“I couldn’t have ever left like that. I couldn’t have had it on my conscience, knowing that you were going back to such a monster. No one ever deserves that.” Jim leaned down to kiss him. “I’m just lucky that you chose to love me.”

“I don’t know if it was a choice.” Freddie admitted. “I promised myself that I would never fall in love with anybody in the whole world ever again. I was so- I was so intensely scared of love, I thought it was awful and frightening and gave people such unprecedented control of your body and your mind.”

“And yet you loved me regardless.” Jim squeezed his hand.

“I don’t know if I could ever get married ever again.” Freddie said, a little shameful. “I love you, I love you so much, but I don’t know if I could ever marry you.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Jim promised. “I’d love to maybe give you a ring one day, but we wouldn’t have to be married. Just more of a gesture of love.”

Every time Jim was so open, so understanding, so completely unfazed, Freddie’s heart swelled a little. He had never expected to find someone so completely willing to accept him with every problem, every resignation that he had; occasionally, he felt wondered if Jim was actually a figment of his imagination, as thin and wispy as the air itself. He was as a Sylph had once been described, made of that ‘airy substance’ so unbelievably perfect, ethereal and loving and gentle and devoted, and Freddie loved him so, so much.

“I love you.” Freddie threw his arms around Jim. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Jim picked him up and spun him around, not caring when his feet hit a cacophony of flowers and leaves, revelling in laughter that he had once wondered if he’d ever hear.

* * *

“Marshmallows?” Freddie asked as Jim handed him a skewer, his face lighting up. “This is the best date ever!”

Jim laughed and handed him a drink, sitting beside him. “The Midnight Apothecary. I love this place.”

“You know all these beautiful spots.” Freddie sighed happily. “I never went on proper dates before. We’d go for dinner but it was all for show, just because we could afford all these expensive places.”

“I know you like your peaceful places. And I know you get a little crazy when you’re inside all day because you love going out.” Jim wrapped an arm around his waist and Freddie rested his head on his shoulder. “The marshmallows are just a bonus.”

Freddie leaned forward and held his skewer above the fire. “Life is just wonderful, darling.” He said happily.

“Isn’t it just?” Jim smiled. “It’s perfect, darling.”

* * *

“Baba.” Xavier murmured sleepily, laying safe and warm with his grandfather; he was getting more and more used to spending time away from his father, feeling less worried and frightened when they were in different places. 

Bomi ran his fingers through the little boy’s hair, his heart swelling as he watched his sleepy eyelids flutter. It had been years since he’d been able to do this with his own children, decades and decades since he’d done the same with Freddie, the both of them huddled in his single bed, reading stories or singing songs or just simply cuddling. Even further back, he could remember laying back on the sofa with him, Jer with a newborn Kash, bottle feeding him, dressing him in sleepsuits.

He missed those days, and he missed the days that they’d been apart. He missed the decade of his life, his children, his career, everything, and he’d never wanted to get closer to someone in his life.

“Baba’s here, darling.” He murmured, smiling when Xavier’s warm cheek pressed against his stomach. “Are you okay?”

Little fingers reached for his, and he was reminded of the finger games that Freddie had played as a child, drawing faces and outfits on his hands and screeching with laughter when his father supplied the voices. Xavier yawned and smiled, his eyes closing heavily again, just holding onto as much of his hand as he could possibly fit; his tummy was filled with milk and new foods, and his Naani had bought him the nicest, freshest shampoo that had left him smelling like his Daddy, sweet and gorgeous. “Where’s Holly?”

“She’s with your Naani, darling, she wasn’t feeling too tired just yet. She’ll come to bed later.” Bomi kissed his forehead, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He had never dreamed of having grandchildren; Kash had never shown any interest, not even the interest in having a long term partner, and his hopes of children from his eldest had disappeared when he’d met Paul at thirteen.

“Baba?” Holly toddled into the room. “Baba?” The bed was definitely too small for three, but Bomi lifted her up regardless. She snuggled up to her brother, watching her grandfather with all the love in the world. “What was Daddy like when he was little?”

Bomi paused, chewing on his lip as he thought. “He was very happy.” He said after a moment. “He was dancing, dancing all the time. He used to come downstairs in the morning and he’d dance while he made breakfast. He used to sing for me all the time.”

She giggled delightedly. “He likes to sing?”

“He likes to sing an awful lot.” Bomi chuckled as Xavier’s big eyes met his, wide in wonder. 

“What does he sing?” She asked.

Bomi thought for a few moments and started to hum the first song that he associated with Freddie, the song that he’d used to sing him to sleep when he’d been afraid of the monsters under the bed, and then again when his son had started coming home bruised from the bullying. 

To this day, he’d never forgive himself for not seeing the signs, but he was adamant that he’d keep his grandchildren safe forever.

His heart almost burst when Xavier wiggled, dancing though he was sleepy, and he fell asleep that night with the two little ones safe and warm against him.


	24. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's proud of himself for trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I actually stood outside of Garden Lodge which was the craziest experience ever because it's in such a bizarre part of London but it's honestly so crazy to walk those same streets!

His fingers were gentle, tentative as they reached for Freddie’s, quickly retreating when their counterparts were clasped around a mug instead. Instead, they turned to tapping on the table, cold metal under short nails, the sound ringing loud in the silent room. The man before him glanced up when he heard the clearing of a throat, a sound so long ago a demand for attention, but his resolute eyes cast downwards again; he was forced to speak.

“Thank you for coming to see me.” The voice was rasping, tired, craving a smoke or a drink or something to take the edge off. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I’ve been busy.” Freddie replied, sipping his coffee slowly. 

“What have you been doing?” He asked meekly.

“Recovering from surgery, mostly.” Freddie couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “Caring for my children. Making the most of opportunities.”

“What surgery have you had to have?” He sounded guilty and gently touched the pads of his fingers to Freddie’s hand, trying to establish communication between them.

“They sewed my stomach back together.” He explained brusquely. “Then they fitted me with a feeding tube, because I can’t fucking eat anymore, and then they had to fit me with a pacemaker.”

There was silence between the two of them for a few moments. “I’m sorry.” Paul murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Freddie was caught between keeping his mouth resolutely shut and falling back into the arms of the man he’d loved for so long, the man that would make those promises a thousand times over and would take him and kiss him and buy him diamond rings as a show of apology. He sucked on his lower lip, long and slow, and then sighed. “I know you didn’t.” He murmured, his fingers twitching when Paul closed both of his hands around his. “I know, I- I know.” He repeated.

“Are you getting better?” He asked hopefully. Beneath it all, beneath everything he’d done, there was genuine love and tenderness for the man in front of him, for the man he’d beaten black and blue, taken for granted for so long; it was only since they’d been apart that he’d realised how much he’d lost. “What did the doctors say?”

“I can eat a little now.” Freddie looked down at their interlocked fingers, feeling immediately so right and so wrong: the hand was so familiar, stained yellow from nicotine, fingertips soft, a world away from Jim’s callouses of years from being pricked by needles. It reminded him of the good times, their wedding night when they’d made love with their fingers intertwined, their first night with the children, one hand resting over the other on Holly’s back as she cried herself hoarse, even as far back as childhood, sat giggling together at the back of a class, hands held under the table. 

But he was frightened of those hands: he wasn’t Jim, his hands weren’t gentle as they patched up his son’s knee or helped Freddie clean his stoma, his hands weren’t as loving as when Jim stroked his cheek when he was sleeping against his chest, his hands weren’t warm and grounding and friendly. They weren’t the hands that had stopped him from flinching away from every little touch.

Freddie pulled his hand back towards his chest.

“I’m getting better.” He said eventually.

Paul looked a little wounded but he clasped his hands together to hide his disappointment; he wanted to get somewhere, wanted to reestablish their relationship, wanted his love back. He didn’t care about all this new life, new boyfriend, anything like that; he wanted forgiveness, and he wanted his lover to come home and fluff up the pillows and cook dinner again. “I missed you.” He said quietly.

Freddie swallowed hard and stayed quiet, casting his eyes skywards.

“I want you to come home.” Paul reached forward, more impassioned now, and took both his hands, holding them tightly. Freddie went to speak but Paul quickly began again. “Hear me out, darling, please. I miss you so much, and I- I can’t stop thinking about you, and our life, and how much it hurts that you’ve gone. You’re just such a lovely person, and you’re so wonderful, and you’ve always taken such good care of all of us.” He paused and bit his lip. “I love you.”

“Please don’t.” Freddie hunched his shoulders, instinctively curling in on himself even though he couldn’t use his hands to protect himself. “It’s all changed, everything’s changed, it’s not the same anymore.”

“It doesn’t have to change.” He promised. “I know you’re getting a career going, I don’t want you to stop doing that if it’s making you happy. I can still support you, you don’t have to worry about anything like that, and you can come home. I know you love our house so much, darling, it took you months to renovate it, you wouldn’t want to leave it behind forever.”

Freddie pulled his hands away, grip marks left on his fingers. “I want it to change.” He said eventually, finishing his coffee. “I don’t think I can keep living like this anymore.”

“What do you need to change?” He asked, sounding so hopeful. He had never taken the time to listen to Freddie like this before, and he loved the resolute, assertive man ever more than he loved the obedient househusband that he’d created. “Anything you’d like, we can change it.”

Freddie stood up, making sure he was out of reach, that his husband would be held back by the shackle around his ankle. “I want a divorce.” He said, his voice sounding firmer than he’d anticipated.

“A divorce?” Paul’s face turned from hope to anger. “Why the hell do you want a divorce?”

“I’m in love with someone else.” Freddie rubbed his bare arm. 

“Oh, don’t do this again.” He rubbed his temple tiredly. “Hasn’t he gotten bored of you yet? What does he have that I don’t? Isn’t everything that I’ve done for you enough?”

Freddie bit the inside of his cheek, spite rising in his chest. “He loves me.” He replied defiantly.

“I love you!” He replied. “I told you, I love you.”

“You stabbed me!” He blurted out. “How is that love?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you!” He insisted.

“I don’t love you.” Freddie told him. “I’m happy now.”

Paul paused and his face coloured with fury. “Now listen-” He said, but Freddie was already heading for the door. “Listen- fucking listen to me!” He shouted, but Freddie seized the door handle and pulled it open as quickly as he could.

The DCI wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he came out, clutching his mug with trembling fingers. “Did you say everything you wanted to?” She asked quietly.

“As much as I could.” Freddie said quietly. “I don’t- I don’t want to do that again.”

“I doubt you’ll get the chance.” She handed him a glass of water that he sipped shakily. “The court case for the London stabbing starts in a few days. I imagine he’ll go to prison for quite a long time.”

“He thinks he’s coming out.” He sat down and rubbed his temples. “He wants me to move back in with him.”

“Thank you for reminding me!” She said quickly, grabbing an envelope from the counter and handing it to him. “The house is legally your property once he goes to prison, and I know you don’t have a key, so you can keep these. You can at least go back and get any possessions that you want.”

* * *

Jim laid on an armchair on the deck of the boat, Holly laying against his chest, dozing in and out of sleep in the afternoon sunshine; the collar of his work shirt had been loosened, his suit jacket thrown aside. His daughter had been exhausted when he had picked her up from nursery, and he could definitely see the beginnings of a cough or cold starting to approach her; he’d tell Freddie in a few days when he wouldn’t have time to worry himself to death over it. 

Xavier toddled over to them, sitting down beside them and watching the waves hitting the boat almost hypnotically. Both children were tired, hit with middle-week fatigue, of Freddie getting them up bright and early for nursery three mornings in a row. Jim held out a hand for him and he climbed up to the space in between his legs, settling down happily.

They had been dozing for almost an hour when Jim heard the sound of footsteps growing closer, the sound of a key in the lock, keys in the dish, shoes on the floor, the kitchen drawers opening and closing, the crackle of a giving set wrapped in cellophane. “Baby?” He called out, lazy and sleep-warm from the sunshine, and he couldn’t help his smile when Freddie came up the stairs. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Freddie smiled, sitting cross legged on the floor opposite him. Even just seeing his lover like that, wrapped up and lazy and cuddling with his children, Freddie was certain that he’d made the right decision. “How was your day?”

“It was a good day.” Jim yawned, stroking Holly’s hair as he watched Freddie set up a feed. “Are you okay?”

“My stomach’s in knots.” Freddie admitted. “I’m hypo but I don’t know if I could stomach anything for very long.”

“Oh, baby.” He softened, leaning over to smooth a hand over Freddie's shoulder. “What happened?”

“I went down to the police station.” He glanced up at his lover and smiled shyly. “I spoke to Paul.”

“They made you speak to Paul?” He frowned. 

“They didn’t make me.” He murmured. “They asked me if I wanted to and I did. I wanted to see what he’d say.”

“What did he say?” Jim leaned down to kiss his head.

“That he loved me and he was sorry and he wanted me to come home.” He shrugged.

“And what did you say?” He questioned.

“I told him I wanted a divorce. I told him that I love you.” He looked up at him and smiled. “I told him that I’m not going back.”

Jim squeezed his shoulder and laid his head back against the armrest. “I love you.” He smiled.

“I love you too.” Freddie connected his tube and then scrunched up all his waste. “I forgot! I bought you something!”

“You did?” Jim chuckled. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to.” He insisted. “I went to Doolittle’s, I know you’d love it there. It’s like the conservatory but you can buy the flowers.”

“You bought me flowers?” Jim’s cheeks warmed a little, and his heart blossomed beautifully; he loved Freddie so much, but occasionally he had a way of making him feel like a teenager again, his first love coming hard and fast back at him.

“Not exactly.” Freddie grabbed his pole and ran down the stairs, the metal clattering as it hit each step. When he reappeared, he was holding a plant pot against his chest, his face partially obscured by yellow roses, and when he set it down he was sporting the biggest smile. “You said you wanted to grow something, and I wanted to buy you roses, so I thought I’d buy you roses that you could keep alive for longer than a few days.”

“Oh, darling!” Jim moved Holly and immediately pulled Freddie close. “Oh, Freddie, they’re perfect!”

Freddie’s cheeks warmed and he laughed as Jim held him and kissed him. “I’m glad you like them. I was thinking that maybe we could turn the top deck of the boat into like a little garden for you, we could get lots of pots to start to build it.”

Jim leaned down and smoothed his fingers over a rose petal. “They’re just gorgeous.” He murmured. “Joy and delight, right? Appreciation?”

“Yeah.” Freddie smiled. “Joy was the big one. Because I realised that I’m happy now, and I wasn’t happy before, and I’ve got you to thank for that.”


	25. Yellow Leaf Papers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all seems so simple, is all.

“Can I have some money to buy groceries?” Freddie asked, sitting up on the counter where Jim was making coffee. 

“Of course.” He leaned over to peck his lover’s lips. “Did your wages not come through?”

“I’ve spent it all.” Freddie reached over to use the leftover water to make himself a tea.

“All of it?” Jim spluttered. “It’s been three days, darling.”

“Legal fees are fucking expensive.” He sighed. “I spent most of it on a lawyer to serve divorce papers now Paul’s in prison. I’m asking them to do a lot, because I want complete custody of the kids and I want the house and I want maintenance payments. I think he owes me that much.”

“Too right.” Jim tilted his chin up and kissed him again.

“I just want it all over and done with.” Freddie broke the kiss and rested his head against Jim’s chest; sometimes he liked the closeness of hugging more than the intimacy of kissing. It felt safer, it felt warm, he felt as though there were no expectations on him, as though he wasn’t so pressured. “I want it done, and I want to know that the kids are safe.”

“We’ll finish it.” Jim wound his arms around him, comfortingly running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll be all over with soon, darling, I promise.”

“I don’t know if he’ll use it to control me.” Freddie felt a little shaky just at the thought of it. “If he doesn’t agree, I have to be married for another five years, and we’ll have joint custody, and all of our accounts are joined so he can take all my money, and he’ll just- he can still have all of it.”

“He’ll agree.” Jim said firmly, kissing the top of his head. “He’ll agree, darling, of course he will. We’ll make sure he does.”

“You can’t be sure.” He murmured. 

“I can.” Jim said resolutely. “I can be sure, darling, I can.”

* * *

“Look!” Freddie grinned widely; he’d been struggling with the flexibility in his inner thighs for months, never managing to stretch them fully into box splits, and it had caused him struggles throughout the beginning of his career. He’d managed to get through Manon without failing any moves, but he’d come close to pulling himself an injury several times, and he’d been resolutely stretching and stretching to try to loosen himself up. “Look, darling, look!”

He was holding onto the breakfast bar, using it to steady himself, his ankle in a firm grip as he extended his foot far above his head; he looked so fucking pleased with himself as he let his torso dip down and he pulled his leg beyond just the splits, into something that Jim swore he didn’t even know the human body was capable of-

“Baby, that’s incredible.” He chuckled. “You’ve worked so hard for that!”

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened with delight and he came back to centre, hugging him tightly. “I can do it!”

“You can do it.” Jim kissed his forehead and relaxed his chin on top of his head. “I can’t wait to come and see you. I’m still so sad I didn’t get to see Manon.”

“I’m playing the soldier doll in the Nutcracker.” He smiled. “I’ve got a solo. You might like to see that.”

“Definitely.” Jim promised. “I wish I could’ve seen you as lead, though.”

“Maybe it won’t be the only time.” Freddie shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get something in the new year.”

* * *

He sat cross-legged in front of the mirror, his fingers so delicate as he wiped the remnants of makeup from under his eyes; he was tired, oh-so-tired, but he needed to make sure he was clean of stage makeup before he got on the tube back home. He cleaned the makeup from his eyebrows, from his lips, from the aggressive look of the hollows of his cheeks, thinking to himself about how warm Jim would have the car when he got out of the station at South Kensington - he always kept it lovely and warm, had him nearly asleep by the time he got home so that he had three little ones to get inside and tucked up in bed -

The abrupt knock on the door made him jump, and he let out a little wounded whine when he accidentally poked himself in the eye. “Yes?” He called, assuming it was Olga; he didn’t care that he was in tights and leg-warmers, chest bare, half changed and half stretched. He was getting comfortable amongst the others now, less frightened of them seeing his tube, no longer feeling like the outcast, the sick one, the old one, even when the young ones joked around with him. He danced as well as them, better than them, higher and faster and the others made no attempt not to show how impressive he was.

“Mr. Prenter?” A voice called, and Freddie shivered inadvertently; he hated that name, he couldn’t wait until he was back to being Bulsara - he’d never wanted to be a Bulsara more in his damn life. “Mr. Prenter, we enjoyed your performance very much tonight-”

An unfamiliar face came into the room, and Freddie’s heart rate sped up a little. “Oh- I’m sorry if we interrupted you!” He said quickly. “Your ballet master suggested that you’d be ready to speak to us by now?”

“Who-” He bit his lip nervously and grabbed his shirt, holding it nervously in front of him. “Who are you, exactly?”

“I’m Sydney Elliott, I’m one of the editors at the Evening Standard. We thought it would be nice to have a little feature of an interview with one of the dancers alongside our review of the performance this evening.” He smiled. “Mind if I come in?”

“No, no-” Freddie pulled on his shirt as quickly as he could and bit his lip. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t apologise!” He sat on the sofa and took out a little notebook. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting you so.” 

“It’s okay.” Freddie shook his head and he faltered nervously. “Do you mind if I-” He gestured at the makeup wipes. 

“Go ahead! Do whatever you need, Mr. Prenter.” He promised.

“Freddie, please.” He smiled. “I don’t tend to go by that name anymore.”

“Freddie, of course.” He nodded and clicked open his pen. “What’s it like to be the newest principal in the company?”

“I’m not a principal.” He said shyly, though he was flattered by the compliment. “I’m a first soloist.”

“I thought you played Des Grieux?” He asked curiously.

“I did.” He nodded. “Because of principal injury levels. I was in the right place at the right time.”

“That must have been incredible, then.” He smiled. “What was that like?”

“It’s so overwhelming.” He admitted with a smile. “But it’s incredible. It was an experience I was never anticipating, but it was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

* * *

_ “I know he’s come to see you, so I thought I’d pop you a visit as well.” Jim sat down and laced his fingers, resting his hands on the table. Where Freddie had been nervous, shrinking into himself, his lover was entirely confident to the point of intimidation. “He’s filing for divorce.” _

_ “I know that.” Paul replied. “But that means I have to countersign.” _

_ “Which you’re going to do.” Jim said certainly. _

_ “I don’t plan to.” Paul crossed his arms. “He’s my husband. No one forced him to sign those papers in the first place.” _

_ “How long do you want to be here?” Jim leaned in a little. “Fourteen years, or seven?” _

_ Paul frowned. “What are you suggesting?” _

_ “If you sign the papers then I’ll drop my case against you.” He said simply. “Divorce him, and I’ll drop my case. If you refuse, I’ll get you done for assault with a weapon on a public service worker.” _

_ “What’s the catch?” He asked warily. _

_ Jim held up his hands. “No catch.” _

_ Paul quirked an eyebrow. “You’d sacrifice your own justice and get me out of here earlier if I just sign a piece of paper?” _

_ “And stop having contact with him, set up maintenance payments, give him full custody of the children and the house.” Jim said resolutely. _

_ “Like I’d want the fucking children on my own anyway.” He rolled his eyes. “House, kids, payment, divorce. And you won’t pursue the case.” _

_ Jim held out his hand. “Deal.” _

_ Paul nodded and shook his hand. “Deal.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ But, of course, there’s always a catch. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Eastenders theme tune plays in the background*


	26. Infusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything interacts with everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kids, I am loving the fluff, but this is a realistic outcome of what could happen with gastroparesis!

His eyes shone behind the tears, gingerbread and caramel in the morning coffee, and his hands shook as he clutched the paper to his chest as tightly as he could. The fibres of the paper tore between his fingers as he pulled and pulled at it, the words unintelligible as his eyes blurred; he trembled as though his whole body was liable to fall apart at the seams, his breath caught in his throat and he choked on it-

“Freddie?” Jim stepped through the door and immediately fell to his knees, wrapping his arms tight around his lover. “Freddie, darling, what is it? What’s the matter?” He asked worriedly. He so rarely saw Freddie fall apart entirely - he was master of his own emotions, knowing exactly how to bottle them up somewhere in the back of his mind - that to see him crying so hard that he shook was frightening, frightening for him and frightening for the children. 

Freddie wrapped his arms so tightly around his lover, surprising Jim; he’d been expecting vulnerability like he’d known before, Freddie curling up small and hiding away in his arms like an animal reliant on him for safety. He didn’t often manifest fear and sadness with reciprocated love, holding onto him in a way that was almost protective of his lover. He let go of the paper that he’d been guarding so carefully, handing it to Jim.

_ I am writing to confirm that, as of the 4th of December, your marriage to Mr. Paul Prenter has been annulled. _

“I’m a Bulsara.” He whispered shakily; another tear trickled down his cheek as he said it. “I- I-”

Jim kissed the top of his head and squeezed him. “You don’t belong to him any more.” He murmured. “You’re your own man.”

“He signed over the kids and the house and he agreed to pay me a thousand pounds a month in maintenance and he agreed to never try to contact us again and I- I can’t believe it.” He admitted. “It’s like some kind of dream.”

“I told you he would.” He sat beside Freddie and wound an arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Freddie slowly uncurled his fingers, revealing his wedding ring in the palm of his hand. “I don’t know what to do with it.” He admitted.

“What would you like to do?” Jim questioned.

“Throw it over the side of the boat and never see it again.” He wiped his eyes again and then smiled shyly. “But it’s solid gold. I feel like I should sell it, and it could be melted down or something.”

“How much would you get for it?” He asked curiously, taking it and twiddling it between his fingers. 

“About four hundred pounds, there or thereabouts. It could pay a decent amount towards the divorce fees.” He murmured. “It definitely makes more sense to sell it. I- I just-” He looked down at his bare finger. “I feel strange without it, I guess. I didn’t take it off for thirteen years.”

“Would you want a replacement?” Jim asked softly.

“I think I’d wear it on a different finger.” He looked up at his lover and he relaxed a little. “Maybe my first finger, instead. I don’t like rings on that finger anymore.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He kissed Freddie’s cheek and smiled.

* * *

Xavier jumped into a pile of leaves, laughing as they crunched beneath his feet; he squealed as Freddie jumped beside him, making the leaves fly up around his face. “Daddy!” He laughed, grabbing a leaf and blowing it up at his father. “Daddy, look!”

“I know, darling!” Freddie chuckled and held out his hand for Holly, who eyed them both nervously.

“Are there spiders, Daddy?” She asked nervously.

Freddie laughed as Xavier kicked through the leaves. “No spiders.” He promised. “Jump in, baby!”

She looked at her brother quickly and then took a deep breath, jumping into the leaves. She immediately started to giggle when Xavier kicked leaves at her, kicking them back and squealing. She giggled as Freddie took both of their hands, swinging them along as they walked through the park together.

“Why are we here, Daddy?” She asked curiously. 

“Well, the weather is nice out here.” He hummed happily as the weak winter sunshine shone down on them. “So I thought we could feed the ducks.”

She squealed excitedly. “Will there be swans?” She asked hopefully.

“I think so.” Freddie picked up Xavier when he held up his little arms and sat him comfortably on his hip. “And I also wanted to have a look at something I might buy your Pop for Christmas.”

“What?” Xavier asked, fiddling with the fringe of Freddie’s scarf. He’d bundled all of them into winter clothes that morning - Xavier was wearing the most adorable little hat that Jim had bought from the Christmas market at Leicester Square, giving him little bear ears; Holly had mittens on that looked like foxes, bought for her by Freddie from Kensington Market; Freddie himself was bundled up in Jim’s scarf, his nose still pink from the cold - and he’d glowed with pride when the woman on the tube said he had the sweetest, most well-behaved little ones ever.

“Your Pop wants a garden.” He told them as they walked along. “But we can’t have a garden on the boat. So I thought I’d get him an allotment instead.”

“Alent?” Xavier tried, frowning when he knew he’d said the word wrong. “Alont?”

“Allotment.” Freddie chuckled. “It’s like a little piece of a garden that you can buy.” He opened the gate and put Xavier down so that the children could have a look around. “Don’t pull on anything, darling.”

Holly ran over to a pot of peonies, almost as big as her, her face beaming with excitement. “Look!” She squeaked.

“They’re beautiful.” He smiled, stepping carefully through the plots of land to one of the ones in the sunniest corner. “This could be your Pop’s.”

Holly walked over and nodded seriously. “Pop’s.” She echoed with a nod.

“I’m glad you think so.” He smiled and looked around for Xavier. He was happily chewing away on a blackberry, and Freddie quickly rushed over and picked him up. “Baby, we can’t eat those! They’re not for us.” He said quickly, wiping juice from his chin.

He giggled shyly and reached up to Freddie’s mouth with the other berry he was holding. “For Daddy.” He murmured. 

Freddie couldn’t help but relent; his children were so little, and they just enjoyed having fun. “Okay.” He smiled and took the berry, and the winter crispness exploded across his tongue. “They’re tasty, aren’t they? Maybe Pop could grow some for us.”

“Could Pop grow strawberries?” Holly asked. “And cherries? And peaches?”

“You should ask him, sweetheart.” Freddie smiled. “He could only grow them in the summer, though.”

She nodded. “Can I help?”

Freddie leaned down and kissed her forehead; she was so sweet, so naive, so hopeful that she renewed a passion in him. “I’m sure you can, darling.”

* * *

Jim rolled over and squinted blearily at the clock; half two in the morning. He yawned and wrapped an arm back around Freddie, pulling him closer and kissing the back of his neck: he frowned when Freddie shoved him off quickly. “Are you okay?” He murmured.

“I’m fucking boiling.” Freddie whispered, throwing off the blanket. “It’s so hot in here.”

“It’s cold.” Jim frowned. He was wearing socks in bed, and he thought wearing socks in bed was a crime; it was only when it was this cold, approaching freezing, that he’d give in. He leaned over and turned on the lamp. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Not really.” He admitted, rubbing his arm. 

“You don’t look great.” Jim murmured, kneeling beside him and resting a hand on his forehead. “You’re really hot.”

“I’ve probably just got a cold.” He murmured tiredly. “It’s nothing.”

“I don’t know if it is nothing, darling.” He kissed his forehead gently. “You’re not that far from surgery, I don’t want it to be an infection.”

“It won’t be.” Freddie yawned. “I’m sure I’d feel worse.”

“I don’t want to wait until you do feel worse.” Jim stood up but Freddie grabbed his wrist.

“I’ll feel better in the morning, darling, honestly. Come back to bed.” Freddie murmured. “Let’s not make a big deal out of this.”

“I’ll make a deal with you.” He said, standing beside the bed. “I’ll check your temperatures and your sugars, and if you’re normal, we’ll go back to bed. If you’re out of the ordinary, I’m taking you to hospital.”

“Think about the kids, darling, it’s half two in the morning.” He murmured.

“We’ll drop them at my dad’s.” He insisted, never compromising. “Deal?”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Deal.”

“Thank you.” He moved when Freddie let go of his wrist, grabbing his bag from the counter. “Put this under your tongue.”

Freddie took the thermometer and closed his lips around it, keeping it on top of his tongue to try and get a cooler reading. “You’d think I hadn’t worked in the emergency department for years, darling, I can tell it’s not under your tongue.” He arched an eyebrow. “Do it properly, please.”

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened but he did as he was told. “Thank you, baby.” He grabbed Freddie’s blood machine and sat beside him, taking his hand to prick his little finger. “Which one?”

Freddie wiggled his little finger; he was most used to that by now. He’d had regular hypos when his body hadn’t digested sugar properly, especially when he’d been dancing, and he was getting used to checking his blood by now; he’d been back on the feeds for a few days, having had some stomach problems, and so he’d had to get back into the rhythm of checking them again. 

Jim pricked his finger and put the strip into the machine, checking his sugars quickly. “You’re way out.” He murmured. “You’re high.”

“High?” Freddie said when he removed the thermometer. “I never go high. Why am I high?”

“I don’t know.” Jim admitted. “Your temperature’s high, too. You’re bordering on hyperpyrexia.” He felt under his neck. “Your heart rate’s up. I need to get you to hospital.” He murmured. “Come on, baby, please.”

Freddie frowned. “Am I really that sick?”

“I don’t know.” Jim sighed. “You might be. Please, baby, let’s go.”

* * *

“Antibiotics aren’t changing much.” Jamie looked over his blood test results. “Does he take any medications at the moment?”

“Quite a few.” Jim looked at the results over her shoulder and frowned. “Antiemetics, amoxicillin, codeine, fluoxetine, antiretrovirals, amitriptyline and metoclopramide.”

“Good memory.” She complimented absentmindedly. “Antiretrovirals?”

“He’s positive.” He murmured. “It should be on his file.”

“How’s he been delivering it?” She asked. “Orally? Or through his tube?”

“I- I don’t know.” He admitted. “Does it matter?”

“It might be to do with that. If he’s taken them by mouth and he’s thrown them up, or if he’s crushed and dissolved them, then it’ll effectively be as though he hasn’t been taking anything at all.” She murmured. “If I get a plasmalyte bag and an ART shot, can you deliver it? I’m run off my feet tonight and I might not be able to get a nurse to him very quickly.”

“Of course.” He agreed. He walked back into the cubicle and took Freddie’s hand, kissing the back of it lightly. “How are you doing, darling?”

“I feel like death.” He admitted. “Can I get some water?”

“Yeah-” Jim leaned across and grabbed his water bottle from the counter, handing it to him. “I’m going to put a new line in and get you hooked up to some fluids, okay? It’s going to bring your sugars down, and we’re going to try another medicine, but it’s going to be a shot.”

Freddie nodded tiredly and rubbed his eyes; he didn’t like emergency departments, they always put him on edge with how loud and chaotic they were, even when Jim had done his best to quieten the sounds by drawing the curtain around them. “Why are you doing it? You’re not working.” He murmured. 

“They’re busy and I want to get you better as quick as I can.” He stroked Freddie’s hair lightly. “You spend too much time in this place as it is.”

“Mr. Bulsara?” Jamie asked, coming through the curtain; even despite everything, the sound of his maiden name made him smile. “Has Jim explained what we’re doing?”

He nodded tiredly. “What do you think is wrong with me?”

“It seems to me that you might still be suffering a high viral load that your body is trying to fight off. We want to try this to see if it brings your symptoms down a little.” She explained. “And we need to decide what we’re doing about administering your ARTs.”

Freddie bit his lip shyly. “Have I been doing it wrong?”

“Of course not, sweetheart, of course not.” Jim washed his hands and grabbed the pack he needed to start another line. “It’s not your fault at all.”

“Your body just won’t have been able to digest the tablets properly.” She explained. “So we’re going to give you shots, one now and a couple to take home for the next few days, and that should bring your load down by about ninety percent.”

“Will I have gotten worse since I was diagnosed?” He asked, wincing a little as Jim inserted his cannula. 

“Thankfully, the illness can take years to get bad. We’re only talking a couple of months.” She explained. “So no, you won’t have gotten much worse in that time.”

He nodded as Jim taped over the needle to keep it in place and linked it to the plasmalyte bag. “Thank you.” He murmured, and she smiled before heading back out.

“Are you okay?” Jim asked, grabbing the needle to check that there was no air in the syringe. 

“I’m okay.” He nodded. “It’s just a lot. I didn’t think you could get sick twice from it.”

“You look like you’ve got some kind of infection, too. Because your system is overloaded, that’s why it made you so poorly.” He murmured. “It’s a blessing, really, because otherwise we could’ve ignored it for a lot longer.”

* * *

Holly touched Freddie’s cheek gently. Xavier had gone with Jim to find them all some food - he’d been incessantly whining that he was hungry, and so Jim had taken him so that Freddie could have a little peace. “Daddy, why are you sick again?” She asked quietly.

The ward was much quieter than the emergency room, and Freddie was thankful for the privacy. “It’s just because of my tummy, darling.” He explained tiredly. “Some of my medicines haven’t worked properly.”

She frowned and rested the palm of her little hand on his tummy. “Please work.” She murmured, cuddling up to her father’s stomach as though she could magically make him well again. “I want Daddy to be better.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Freddie leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be better in no time.”


	27. Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A momentary lapse of judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't come out quite as I wanted it to (I wanted it to be a bit more sympathetic to Jim but I don't feel like it comes across that way) but hopefully you can understand why they both feel the way they do - I'm trying to show a little more realistically what might happen in a situation like this!

Jim yawned and pulled a sweater on, his hair still freshly damp from his shower; the perk of working in the hospital was knowing which department had the best facilities, and the emergency department definitely had the nicest bathrooms and showers. He slipped his shoes back on and rubbed his tired eyes; it was getting late and he knew Freddie would probably be asleep by now up on the ward, and the children would be asleep at his mother’s house. The routine of the last few days worked like a lullaby to relax him into sleep, knowing everyone was cared for and looked after.

He grabbed his bag and walked out of the bathroom, sidestepping the busiest parts of resus to try and get back to Freddie as quickly as he could. He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, but he smiled when he saw Matthew beside him, dressed comfortably; they’d both finished their shifts about a half hour ago. “How are you doing?” Matthew asked gently, rubbing his back a little.

“I’m alright.” He smiled tiredly. “There’s a lot going on at the moment.”

“Are you looking after yourself?” He pressed on. “Is Freddie looking after you? You can’t keep pushing and pushing yourself to your limit if no one’s looking after you.”

“I’m fine, Matt, honestly.” He promised. 

Matthew came a little closer. “Are you eating and sleeping properly?” He asked, voice softening. “You can’t give all your time and energy to Freddie.”

“I know, I know.” Jim chuckled. “It’s okay. He’s just on bed rest, so we’re just relaxing together.”

“I really care about you.” Matthew whispered. “I- I just-”

He leaned up and pressed his lips to Jim’s, cupping the back of his neck leisurely. It was like no kiss he’d ever shared with Freddie: this was fiery, passionate, deep and loving and indulgent, and Jim found himself guiltily kissing back. His mind insisted it was so wrong, but it felt like a way of placating the part of himself that wanted more, missed a physical relationship - he was a man, he was a human, he couldn’t help it that despite all the promises and reassurances that he didn’t mind if they never had sex, somewhere, deep down, he really did mind-

“Matt-” Jim pulled back eventually. “Matt, come on. We- we can’t. Not here.” He looked a little bereft, and the sight made Jim feel guilty. “Look, I- I’ll take you for a drink, okay? But I need to talk to Freddie first.”

He stepped back and straightened himself out a little, his cheeks pink. “Tonight?” He asked hopefully.

“Alright.” He agreed. “I’ll meet you at the King’s Arms at eight.”

* * *

The heavy quilt crunched as he rolled over, half-awake and bleary-eyed. He was still running a fever, but it had come down since he’d been admitted, and he was still having IV fluids and antibiotics and antiretrovirals pumped into him at all times of the day and night. He hadn’t managed to run his feed with much success - he’d spent most of the time being sick, even when they ran it in at a low rate - and so he had electrolytes running at the same time to lower his risk of seizure.

He hadn’t really realised that he was so ill.

“Baby?” Jim said softly, coming into the room. “Are you awake, sweetheart?”

Freddie nodded and pulled himself up to sitting. “Yeah, yeah, I’m awake, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, darling.” He sat on the chair beside his bed and took his hand gently. “It’s good to see you getting some rest.”

Freddie yawned and closed his eyes again, resting his forehead against their joined hands. “How was your shift?” He asked tiredly. 

“It was good, darling, thank you.” Jim leaned across and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I need to talk to you about something, sweetheart.”

Freddie cracked an eye open again and looked up at his lover. “What is it?” He yawned again.

“A guy has asked me to go out for a drink with him tonight.” He explained. “Like a date, I think.”

Freddie didn’t know if he was too tired or too ill or too numb to feel upset; he felt resigned, more than anything. “And are you going to go?” He asked tiredly.

“I wanted to know what you thought.” Jim said quietly. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t go.”

He didn’t want to make the decision; he didn’t want to be the reason Jim resented him, didn’t want to stifle his options, but he hated the idea of his lover going out on a date with somebody that would be able to satisfy him and look after him better than he could. “Whatever you’d like.” He replied. “It’s your decision.”

* * *

“This is so wrong-” Jim said breathlessly as he was pushed against the door of the boat. “Matt, we can’t, come on-”

“Stop thinking so much.” He leaned up and kissed Jim again, tangling a hand in his hair. “You’re overthinking it, darling. He’s not stupid, he knows what you’re doing.”

That one little phrase made him feel like a monster; how many times had Freddie sat back in resignation, looking after his children and trying to block out the sound of his husband having sex with another man? How many times had he acquiesced, fearing more abuse, having been told that he was boring and ugly and unwanted? 

How could he put him through the same, when he was in hospital, just because he missed sex? How could he put him through it again, knowing that he could be crying with pain and cold and loneliness while he was fucking a guy he didn’t even care about?

“No-” Jim pushed him off a little more firmly. “I can’t, Matt. I can’t do that to him.”

“You spend your whole life caring for him and never being looked after.” He insisted. “You’ve got to have some fun in your life.”

“Because I love him.” He replied, equally insistently. “I’m not cheating on my boyfriend while he’s in hospital.”

“You’ve spent half the evening kissing me. You’ve already crossed the line.” He arched an eyebrow. “You know he’ll forgive you for everything anyway.”

Jim frowned. “What kind of gaslighting shit is that?” He asked. “I’m not manipulating him because of what he’s been through.”

He huffed and crossed his arms. “Way to kill the mood.”

“Just go home.” He said exasperatedly. “I don’t want you here anymore.”

* * *

“Oh, sweetheart!” The nurse came further into his room when she saw that Freddie was crying, crouching down by his bedside. “What’s the matter, darling? Are you in pain?”

He nodded weakly and hugged his knees, not feeling at all like talking to anybody. “Okay.” She agreed. “I’ll get you some more painkillers. Can I get you anything else?”

He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “Tea, please.” He whispered. He knew it would make him sick again, but he wanted the comfort of a warm drink when he was feeling so cold and so lonely. 

“Of course.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “You’re feeling very cold, darling, it looks like your fever’s broken. Can I take your temperature?”

He nodded miserably and took the thermometer under his tongue, not even trying to give it a better reading. When she read it, she nodded. “You’re a little colder than normal. I think they’ve gone a little overboard on the fever drugs. I’ll get you a nice warming blanket and some tea, okay?”

He found himself crying again just with how lovely she was being; she wrapped a sympathetic arm around his shoulders and brought the blanket up higher on his body. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” She asked gently.

“My-” Freddie sniffed heavily, eyes still brimming with tears. “My boyfriend, he went on a date with another guy. I- I just want to be normal.”

“Oh, darling.” She sighed. “You are normal.”

“I’m not.” Freddie whimpered miserably. “I’m in hospital all the time and I have to run feeds instead of eating half the time and I don’t like being touched that much and I don’t want to have sex. No wonder he doesn’t want me anymore.”

“I’m sure that’s not how it is.” She rubbed his back gently. “Have you spoken to him about it?”

Freddie shook his head. “He was supposed to come back after he’d been on the date but he hasn’t.” He picked at his nails. “He’s probably taken him home.”

“Try not to think about it.” She replied. “You can talk to him about it when he comes back.”

“I’m scared that he’ll be drunk.” He admitted. “Don’t let him in if he’s drunk.”

* * *

He was bundled up in blankets, sat in one of the chairs at the nurse’s station at nearly midnight with his tea and the phone propped between his ear and his shoulder. “So he’s gone with this other guy and just assumed you’d be fine with it?” Kash sounded incensed. “What a prick!”

Freddie loved his sister more than anyone else in the whole world. “I’m just not feeling great.” He admitted. “I almost wish he’d just done it without asking me.”

“I’m not surprised, darling. It sounds like he was trying to get you to justify his decision to make him feel better just because he wants to shag some two bit tramp.” She muttered angrily. “Listen, can I come and see you? I don’t like the idea of you in that place on your own.”

“The nurses are lovely, darling, you don’t have to worry about me.” He said shyly.

“That’s not what I mean. I want to give you a bit of company.” She insisted. “Listen, I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?”

* * *

“This is the coldest room known to man.” Kash stepped into his room and smiled at the sight of her brother all bundled in blankets.

“I had a fever.” Freddie explained. “But now it’s broken and we’re trying to warm me back up again.”

“Room for a little one?” She asked hopefully, standing beside his bed and kicking her shoes off. She smiled when he moved over and held open the blankets for her; it reminded her of sharing a blanket on the sofa as children when they’d watch whatever films were on television at Christmas time together. “Thanks, darling.”

Freddie idly rested his head on her shoulder. “You’re boiling.” He muttered.

“I’m normal, you’re just freezing.” She took his hand and rubbed it lightly. “Could it be to do with your feed?”

“It could be. I haven’t really been running it that successfully because the antipyretics they gave me made my stomach flare up again.” He admitted. “But they’ve taken me off them now.”

“Why don’t you try and run it now?” She asked. “Even just a bit of the bottle?”

“Maybe you’re right.” He acquiesced. “I’ve got a bottle in that box over there.”

She hopped out the bed and grabbed a bottle, hanging it up on his IV pole. “You should wrap tinsel around this. Make it festive.”

“Knowing me, I’ll probably spend my Christmas in here.” He rolled his eyes and took the giving set she gave him, kneeling up to connect it to the feed and prime it through the pump. “It’s a depressing thought.”

“Well, if you do, you’ll have all the Bulsaras and the kids with you.” She told him. “We’ll celebrate Christmas here.”

“That would be awful for all of you. It’s hardly a fun place.” He shook his head.

“Yeah, and we’re not going to let you eat terrible hospital food and say happy Christmas to yourself.” She sat back beside him. “Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without Freddie’s badly wrapped presents, would it?”

He smiled reluctantly and connected his tube to his button. “Hopefully I won’t be here at all. Hopefully I can have my own place by Christmas.”

“You can come and stay with me if you can’t work things out with Jim. If he is as much of a toad as he seems to be.” She kissed his cheek. “I’d love to have the little ones around.”

“Thanks, darling.” He smiled tiredly. “It’ll be okay. It’ll work itself out.”

“I’m sure it will. Hopefully there’s some misunderstanding and it’s not as bad as we thought.” She shrugged. “Now, let’s see if we can find something awful to watch and we can turn this into a proper sleepover.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know hospital TV wasn't introduced until the 90s and this is set in the 80s but we're going with it anyway okay)


	28. Split Soles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to be angry.

Jim’s hand rested on the metal of the door handle, the cold infusing through to the bone. He was so entirely, completely fucked, he was so beyond explanation; if he’d come straight away, if he hadn’t fallen asleep on the fucking sofa, then maybe he could’ve started making amends. Leaving him half the night had never been the plan, especially not when he was so ill; he’d wanted to come back with flowers and that Harrods mulled spice tea that he’d seen in the window but never bought for himself, and instead he was turning up in the early hours of the morning with a hangover and bad breath.

The door opened before he had a chance to push it. “What do you want?” Kash scowled. She was wearing her brother’s jumper and a pair of his ballet tights in an attempt at pajamas - she hadn’t expected to spend the night, and so she’d had to do her best, though his clothes were too big - and her hair was brushed out and loose, nothing like the tight braids she’d worn it in when she’d first arrived. Freddie had always taken delight in brushing out her hair until it crackled, laying in bed beside her as they talked boys and wishing that the long, glossy hair was his own, nothing like his own fluffy curls; he had brushed it out at two in the morning when he’d been getting upset again as she braided little sections of his to distract him. “It’s five in the fucking morning.”

“I want to see him.” Jim said meekly, aware that he reeked of beer. 

“You can take a fucking shower and chew some gum first.” She looked him up and down in contempt. “He’s asleep, no thanks to you.”

“I meant to come earlier.” He insisted. “But I was drunk and I didn’t want to make his anxiety worse so I thought I’d sober up before I came, and then I fell asleep on the sofa.”

“After you’d shagged some fucking guy ten years younger than him and left your ridiculously loyal boyfriend nursing gastroenteritis and a fucking infection of his stoma.” She crossed her arms. “Crying with pain and struggling to keep himself warm after his fever broke.”

“Kash-” Jim said quietly. “Please, I need to see him.”

“You’re not talking to him while he’s tired and sick and half-asleep because we both know that he’ll forgive you so long as you give him a hug.” She said firmly. “Go away, have a shower, come back when he’s actually awake and maybe consider bringing him something to make him smile.”

* * *

“Baby?” Jim knocked on the door; Kash had gone out to buy breakfast and Jim had taken the chance to get past her at a slightly more sociable hour.

“Go away.” Freddie muttered, pulling the duvet over his head. 

“I brought you some clean clothes.” He said quietly. “And some of those hard sweets you like. I brought your lip balm too.” He faltered by the door. “Where should I put them?”

“Why don’t you give them to your new fucking pansy?” Freddie muttered. “I don’t care.”

Jim placed them on the chair and faltered by the bed. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

“If I say you’re forgiven, will you fuck off?” Freddie asked tiredly.

“I didn’t sleep with him.” Jim said quietly. “I didn’t, I really didn’t. I fucked up, Freddie, I should never have gone for that drink in the first place, but I only kissed him.”

“Was he a good kisser?” Freddie asked idly, picking his nails. “Maybe I could get a few tips.”

Jim leaned across to take his hand but Freddie flinched back from the touch. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He insisted. “He didn’t have anything that you don’t.”

“Except willingness, is that it?” He asked. “Except no problem with spreading his legs?”

“I didn’t sleep with him.” He said again. “He kissed me and I shouldn’t have kissed him back but I was feeling sorry for myself and I used that to justify it.”

“So every time you said that it didn’t matter, we could take it at my pace, you were lying to me?” He asked. “Because actually, getting your leg over is more important than being here when you knew I was going to get my test results?”

“I fucked up-” He said again, and Freddie’s cheeks coloured with anger.

“Stop saying that like you want me to feel sorry for you!” He said exasperatedly. “Would you rather be raped to the point that you can’t bear the thought of having sex ever again?”

“Of course not.” He murmured apologetically. 

“Just go away.” Freddie repeated. “Take my things to Kash’s. Don’t go for the children.”

“Freddie, please-” He tried. “I made a mistake-”

“You cheated on me.” He replied. “It’s not that easy. You asked me to justify your shit behaviour by letting you go, I gave you back the decision and you chose to go on a date while I was here.”

* * *

Bomi held a sleeping Holly while Jer helped to feed Xavier; Kash held the syringe in her hand and slowly pushed the water through his tube. “I’m getting good at this.” She grinned. 

“Go slow-” Freddie winced a little. “Slower, slower, just a little bit at a time. I can’t take much.”

She nodded and stopped for a second. “So it’s a flush, then meds, then another flush?”

Freddie sighed and nodded. “It’s awfully boring, Kash, you guys really don’t have to hang around for this.”

“Darling, shush.” Bomi leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “We want to spend time with you, even if it is here.”

Freddie suddenly felt like crying. He hated being here, hated the hospital, hated every problem he’d ever had with his health. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I might have to put the children back into care. I don’t know if I can look after them like this.”

“Freddie-” Kash said quickly, but he shook his head.

“It’s no childhood, is it?” He asked, looking at both of them. “Beaten by their father, watching their other father clean his own wounds, and then spending half their time in hospitals. They’d be better off in a children’s home, they’ve still got most of their life left to live. They deserve better than I can give them.”

“They’re so little.” Jer said quietly. “What if your father and I help out? Take them for a little while?”

Holly cracked an eye open and looked over at Freddie. “Daddy.” She whispered, holding her hands out for her father. “Daddy, Daddy, I want Daddy.” She whined.

“Okay, sweetheart.” He held his arms out for her and took her, wincing when she kicked the sore spot on his stomach. “Everything okay?”

She nodded and settled against his chest, eyes closed and looking peaceful again. “Love you.” She murmured.

Freddie sighed and kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, darling.” He whispered. “Very much.”

“You’re the first bit of stability that these kids have ever had.” Bomi said gently. “And we know you love them so much. We don’t want you to give them up unless you entirely have to.” He insisted.

Freddie held onto his little girl as best he could, cradling her against him. “I’ve just been such a shit father to them the whole time I’ve had them.” He said miserably.

“Hey-” Kash squeezed his arm. “I watched you bathe these two little ones whilst managing not to get tangled in your giving tube and you even remembered to use bubble bath to make Holly smile even though you could hardly move for the pain. You are the most selfless, wonderful father that anyone could ask for.”

“And it’s not your fault that you’re sick.” Bomi rubbed his shoulder. “Let us help you.”

“Okay.” Freddie agreed after a moment. “Okay, Dad.”

* * *

“That was possibly the least hassle-free set of procedures I could’ve asked for.” The doctor smiled. “How do the tubes feel?”

Freddie was in disbelief that he was back to this point, but even worse; he had a gastric tube in one nostril and a jejunal tube in the other because he was unable to use his button while it was infected. “They’re so itchy.” He murmured.

“I know.” She said apologetically. “We’ll take them out as soon as the infection heals. I just don’t want to aggravate the site any further.”

“I understand.” He looped a tube behind each ear. “I feel like every time someone stops loving me, I get sicker.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll find the right man.”

“Who knows?” Freddie shrugged. His nose twitched again and he scrunched it to try and relieve the itch. “Can I get some tape to keep these in place?”

“We thought it might be best to use a bridle, seeing as your skin reacted to the tape.” She said gently.

“No.” Freddie said immediately. “I’m not having a bridle, no fucking way. They’re the most annoying thing in the whole world.” He insisted. “No, tape me up.”

“Okay.” She said quickly, agreeing to what he wanted. “We do have some tape that might work best for you, but it’s paediatric tape.”

“Is there any difference?” He asked curiously.

“It’s hypoallergenic.” She told him. “But it does have teddy bears on it.”

“Teddy bears?” He questioned. She got the roll out and opened it up so that he could have a look, and he laughed. “Oh, they’re so cute!”

“Shall I tape you up with this, then?” She asked with a chuckle.

“Go for it.” He smiled and she taped up each tube carefully. 

He looked over at himself in the mirror and smiled at the sight of the teddy bears on his face. “You know, this almost makes this tolerable.”

“I’m glad!” She grinned. “And they’ll be out in no time, darling.”

* * *

“Knock knock?” A voice called out, and Freddie looked up from his sketchbook with a smile. “How’s my little warrior?”

“Olga!” Freddie’s smile widened. “I’m getting better.”

She walked over to his bed and tilted his face up a little. “My, my, you have been through the wars, haven’t you? Your throat sounds awfully sore.”

“It’s only because of the tubes.” He explained shyly. “I only had them placed earlier on.”

“How come we’re back to nasal tubes?” She sat beside him and looked through her bag. “Oh, I brought you a little present! In the spirit of Christmas, and all that.”

She couldn’t help but smile triumphantly when his face lit up like a child’s upon seeing the parcels under the Christmas tree. “I can’t use my button while the infection is healing, because it makes it move around and that’s causing granulation tissue.” He shrugged. “They’ll be out soon enough. Can I see?” He asked hopefully, reaching for the little box she held.

“Well, maybe it’s more than one thing.” She chuckled. “I did my fair share of hospital stays when I was your age, so I thought I’d bring along my tried and tested.”

He nodded eagerly and took the box, opening the ribbon bow as carefully as he could. He pulled out the fuzziest pair of socks ever, a hand lotion, a new lip balm, a bag of sweets, a book, a tiny plant, a company sweater - the perfect one that he’d seen in blush pink and had always been too afraid to buy for himself - and another tiny box which he prised open with his thumbnails.

“You might not like this.” Olga said quickly. “It’s perfectly alright if you don’t, darling.”

It was a necklace, a fine silver chain that almost seemed to melt into the warmth of his skin tone when he held it in the palm of his hand, with a little charm on the end. It was a solid silver pair of split sole shoes, the toes soft, and he could feel the detail of the individual pads when he ran his thumb over the bottom of the shoes, so small they were barely larger than his thumbnail.

“Darling, it’s beautiful!” He whispered.

“We designed it a little while ago as part of the new shop range.” She explained. “We designed one with split soles, one with the boots you so often dance in on stage, and one with pointe shoes. Obviously, they decided to go with the pointe shoes.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “But I had one of these made for me. Personally, I think that we should be celebrating all shoes, because I think male dancers are underrated. I think people see you as facilitators instead of dancers yourselves, and I know that’s gradually changing, but I still feel as though you’re not celebrated as the women are.” She shrugged.

Freddie glanced up and grinned. “I love it, Olga, thank you.”

“No problem, darling.” She pecked his cheek. “It’s nice to have some pretty things while you’re stuck in here.”

* * *

“Freddie!” June smiled, carrying a big bouquet of roses into his room. “A delightful young man brought these for you. I assured him that you were too tired for visitors, but I promised that I’d bring them up for you.” She winked at him.

“Thank you.” His cheeks coloured and he reached out to take the flowers from her. “Is he okay?”

“He looks like he hasn’t slept in about a week.” She commented, sweeping around his room and cleaning up some of the empty sweet wrappers. “I think he’s still in reception. He hangs around for a little while just in case you want to see him.”

Freddie bit his lip nervously. “Tell him to wait for a while. I need a shower.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll see him in a bit.”

“You might just have made his day. I’m almost sick of seeing his face in reception.” She grabbed a vase down from the cupboard and rested it on his bedside table and then rustled in the drawer to hand him a dressing pack. “Pop this over your button before you shower.”

“Thank you.” He hopped down from the bed and grabbed his toiletry bag. 

* * *

He’d be lying if he pretended he wasn’t deliberately taking a long time to wash his hair, wash his body, using the new lotion that Olga had gifted him and even using the hairdryer to help him feel a little more confident before he faced Jim.

“Freddie?” He heard Jim’s voice from behind him as he applied lip balm in the mirror, and he deliberately didn’t turn around to look at him straight away - maybe he was half being coy, and maybe he didn’t want Jim to see that he was sporting two new tubes. “Freddie, are you okay?” He asked shyly.

He turned around and rubbed his arm; every pretence of confidence he’d had seemed to disappear. “Reasonably.” He murmured.

Jim came a little closer, taking his hand; he smiled a little when Freddie didn’t immediately try and shake him off. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“So has everyone else.” Freddie tucked one of his tubes self-consciously behind his ear. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“You deserve them.” He said immediately. “Is your jumper new?”

“Olga brought it for me.” He laced his fingers nervously together. “She brought me a little care pack. Socks, sweets, and my little plant.” He glanced over at the little cactus on his bedside table. 

“That’s so sweet of her.” Jim smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

It would be so easy to be bitter; it would be so easy to think he missed having someone that did his laundry and his dishes instead of missing the man himself. It would be easy to assume that Jim only cared about what he could do for him while he found other men to satisfy him on the side, but he didn’t really think that.

He loved Jim for a reason. Maybe he’d come to regret it like he had with Paul, but he’d given him endless chances, and it seemed unreasonable to only give Jim one.

Maybe he forgave too easily.

“I missed you too.” He murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Please, please don’t say sorry to me.” Jim tilted his chin up and pressed a feather-light kiss to his forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re allowed to be angry with me.”

“I shouldn’t have cut you off.” Freddie murmured guiltily.

“You had every right to.” Jim promised. “You don’t have to forgive me right now. You don’t ever have to forgive me. I just want you to know that I really am sorry.”

Freddie found himself falling into his arms so easily, drowning in the hug and the feeling of the warm chest against his, the feeling of the pulse of his heart against his cheek when he rested his face in the crook of Jim’s neck. He closed his eyes and let himself relax for a moment, swallowed in Jim’s arms, safe and warm and swaddled like one of his little children.

“I don’t want to forgive you but I do.” He murmured quietly. 

“Don’t forgive me.” Jim whispered. “Don’t forgive me. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I do forgive you.” Freddie murmured. “I do, I do.”

Jim kissed the top of his head and sighed. “Oh, baby.”


	29. Glowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's so, so thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love positive arcs that is all

Freddie lay calmly against his chest, half asleep, his nose resting in the crook of his neck; he was trying to wake up, but his body was reluctant after days of little sleep, when he was so comfortable and finally feeling safe. Jim had slipped in at some point around six in the morning, a little after he’d been given his first dose of meds for the day and had his vitals done: he’d been hooked up to another plasmalyte bag when his blood pressure had been a little too low, which he’d been half-awake for, but as soon as Jim had come straight from his shift and wrapped his lover in his arms, Freddie had been fast asleep again.

He was almost convinced that Jim was still in his scrubs. 

Freddie tucked his fingers in his shirt, and he could almost feel the crunch as it creased - definitely still his scrubs. “You’re not changed.” He murmured sleepily.

“I’m not.” Jim laughed tiredly, kissing the top of his head. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not asleep.”

“I’m a bit wired. I haven’t done nights for a while.” He yawned. “Too much coffee. I started at half seven last night and I threw out my last pair of gloves just after five, and then I had a whole bunch of paperwork to do when the next consultant came in.”

“It’s like-” Freddie squinted at the clock. “Oh, it’s only seven, I thought it was later.”

“I’ll probably eat breakfast before I go to sleep.” He ran his hand up and down Freddie’s back.

“You’re going to voluntarily eat the food in this place?” Freddie arched an eyebrow. 

“Not the patient food.” Jim laughed. “I’ll go down to the staff canteen. I’ll get you something, if you’d like.”

“What can you tempt me with?” Freddie asked. “My stomach’s not in pain this morning.”

“Anything you like.” Jim kissed the end of his nose. “I’ll go out and get you something if you want something specific that they don’t do.”

Freddie had to admit that he liked that Jim was going out of his way to make him happy and comfortable; he appreciated his renewed effort to make his time as an inpatient better. “Peach iced tea.” He murmured. “And I’d like one of those berry crunch yogurt pots.”

“Of course.” Jim agreed. “How long left on your feed?”

“Something ridiculous like eighteen hours. I lost a bunch of weight while I couldn’t feed so now they’re pumping me back up again while I’m not being sick every ten minutes and I’ve got this thing in my nose.” He looped his tube idly around his finger. 

“Were you okay when they fitted them?” He asked softly. “They didn’t hurt you?”

“They were good to me.” He nodded. “Really gentle. It just hurt my throat because they put two down in the space of an hour and I’m not used to it anymore.”

Jim yawned. “Thank you for letting me come and see you.”

“Thank you for sharing my shitty hospital bed instead of our bed at home.” Freddie chuckled. “As soon as this infection fucks off, I can’t wait to come home.”

“I can’t wait for you to come home. I cleaned the whole house top to bottom yesterday and it took me like four hours, I just wanted it to be nice for you. When I’m on my own I get sloppy and that wasn’t fair on all the work you did to keep it all lovely for all of us.” He admitted. “I really miss the little ones.”

“Kash is bringing them over after nursery. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you, a week is a long time.” Freddie smiled. 

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Jim asked. “Because Dad is on his own this Christmas, and I’m sure he’d love to come for Christmas if that’s okay with you.”

“I haven’t gotten to do Christmas with my family for ten years.” Freddie said shyly. “I’d like to take the kids to spend time with their grandparents. But you- I’m sure you can come too, and you can bring Steven if you’d like. Mum loves to host for a huge family when she can.”

“I hardly feel like I’m your family’s favourite person at the moment.” He sighed. “It’s a lovely offer, but-”

“No.” Freddie pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s my decision. I can choose to forgive you and to try again, and that’s something that they have to accept and celebrate with me.”

“You really think?” Jim asked, sounding a little vulnerable. “I don’t want to cause tensions between you or anything.”

Freddie pressed a very soft, very tentative kiss to his lips. “My parents love you. They think you’re a proper man with a proper job and they like that you know how to look after me and spot the signs when I’m getting sick. Mum said that she was glad that you’d gotten me into hospital when you did.”

Jim’s smile relaxed a little. “You could’ve gotten sepsis. I just didn’t want to risk you getting any sicker than you were.”

“I hate being sick.” He admitted. “I was never sick as a kid. I just want to get better and have all the tubes out, even if I do have to live with the pacemaker. I miss cooking.”

“I know, baby.” He soothed. “And I think you will. It can go into remission for years and years, and you’re looking after yourself so well. I can’t see why you wouldn’t go into remission soon enough.”

“Will I always have to have the tube even if I am in remission?” He asked.

“No, darling, not if the remission lasts long enough. Then they can pull it right out and sew it back up, but they would have to go back to nasal tubes if it got worse again.” Jim rubbed his back lightly. “You’ll be better in no time.”

* * *

Jim was exhausted, and so Freddie was idly flipping through his sketchbook while he lay in his boyfriend’s arms; he had tiredly admitted that he didn’t like to sleep without Freddie next to him, and now he didn’t want to wake him when he’d been awake so long. He sketched the vague outline of Holly, her bunched hair in ringlets and then tied back in ribbons, and just started to fill in each individual wisp of hair when the door burst open.

“Freddie Bulsara!” Kash sang as she walked into the room, Holly breaking away from her and dragging Xavier over to their father as soon as they saw him with Jim.

“Pop!” She shouted, startling Jim awake; he smiled when Freddie picked them up and placed them on the tiny bed. He hugged Holly close, kissing the top of her head, laughing a little when Xavier tried to nuzzle his way into their hug.

“And what are you doing here, darling?” Kash asked sarcastically, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. “You’re definitely not welcome.”

“Kash-” Freddie said quickly. “Please, darling.”

“No.” She insisted. “Freddie, you can’t just forgive him like this, you can’t keep letting yourself be mugged off by different men with shitty-”

“Enough!” He rubbed his eyes wearily. “He’s just finished a night shift and I’ve had three nose bleeds in the last two hours and I really don’t have the time or energy for a lecture right now.”

She frowned immediately, quarrel forgotten. “Are you okay?” She asked shyly. 

“It’s just irritation from the tubes.” Jim reassured her. “He isn’t usually hooked up for so long.”

Freddie found his hand and squeezed it lightly. “I’m fine.” He promised. 

Freddie was different when Jim was with him, she could tell; he seemed to come out of his shell a little. He was a little more confident, a little more assertive, a little less frightened of his own shadow; he trusted endlessly in the man beside him and his ability to protect and look after him. He was allowed to soften, to stop being so scared of every knock at the door and every loud noise, because he knew that if anything happened that made him want to hide, he had his lover to make it go away.

“Those flowers are pretty.” She said begrudgingly as she sat in the armchair beside his bed. Freddie’s cheeks glowed and he looked up at Jim with the shyest, sweetest smile, and Kash knew she couldn’t stay angry if he was so happy. “You’ve got good taste. I hope they’re not from the hospital shop.”

“They’re from Doolittle’s.” Jim smiled shyly and pulled Freddie closer, as though there were any space between them on the little hospital bed. “You said I’d love it there, and I did.”

“Doolittle’s?” Kash asked, propping her feet up on a spare bit of mattress.

“It’s a little flower shop in Covent. It’s quite a chaotic place.” Freddie giggled. “I bought Jim a planter of roses a little while ago.”

“I hate how cute you both are.” She grumbled and crossed her arms, making Freddie laugh. “So, how are you going to make it up to him?”

“Kash!” Freddie whined, his cheeks turning red. 

“No, darling, I have to know.” She winked at him. “Diamond rings are boring and predictable, so you can rule that one out.”

“I guess I’ll have to return it, then.” Jim murmured, and Freddie gasped.

“You bought me a ring?” He asked excitedly.

“Maybe.” It was Jim’s turn to blush. “I mean, I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but it’s in my jacket pocket.”

He knew Freddie hadn’t liked his old engagement ring; his wedding ring, a simple band, had been far more his style, whereas his engagement ring had been too huge, too flashy, too many diamonds in such a small space. He’d scoured the jewellers in Hatton Garden for something right, something not too simple but not too complex, not too flashy and tacky but more than his wedding ring had been. He reached tentatively for the box in his pocket - maybe he hadn’t quite intended for it to be a Christmas present, but he hadn’t found the right time - and then opened it carefully.

Inside was one of the most beautiful rings Freddie had ever seen, a solid silver solitaire band, the diamond cut square and held safe and unobstructed. “Darling-” He murmured, taking the ring so carefully between his fingers. Inside the band, engraved in the silver, were thousands of tiny lines, like a map that Freddie couldn’t understand. “Oh, it’s beautiful…”

“I thought I could get something sentimental engraved inside like the day we met or something like that, but I thought you’d rather have the kids’ initials.” Freddie tilted the ring to see a little engraving of _ HXB _under the diamond and immediately leaned up to kiss his lover’s cheek.

“It’s beautiful.” He repeated. “What are the lines?”

Jim faltered for a moment, becoming a little more shy. “It’s- it’s my fingerprint.” He admitted. “I thought that it was more subtle than having my name or something, so you could still wear it if we weren’t together.”

“Oh, darling!” He threw his arms around Jim’s neck. “I love it so much, thank you!”

* * *

“What are you doing, darling?” Jer asked, looking at Holly sat on the dining table with her paints. 

“I’m like Daddy!” She told her, and Jer’s heart almost broke when she came closer; the little girl had painted herself with red and purple lines and splodges, bruises and grooves that she’d once seen on her father’s skin. 

“Oh, sweetheart-” Jer took the paintbrush gently. “Why don’t I show you what I used to do for your Daddy?”

She nodded excitedly. “What is it?”

“It’s called henna.” She put the paintbrush down. “It draws pretty pictures. Shall I try it on you?” She asked, picking up the powder to mix it with water. 

She giggled and nodded. “Please.”

She quickly prepared the pipe and sat down beside her little girl. “I used to do this on your aunt Kash when she was your age.”

“What do you draw?” She asked curiously as she started to paint on her hand.

“Just patterns, darling. I like to paint flowers and butterflies. They mean happiness and change.” 

“What does change mean?” She asked, watching as the paint blossomed over her skin. The lines were so fine and intricate, so beautiful and detailed, and she loved it even more than her Daddy’s paintings of roses and vines; one day she wanted to do it to her own children, or maybe she could even do it for her father.

“When one thing stops and another thing starts.” Jer explained, her voice low and melodic. “Like when your Daddy stopped loving your Papa and started loving your Pop. That’s a change.”

“Change.” Holly echoed. “I like change. I like Pop.”

“What do you do with your Pop?” She asked, genuinely curious about the little girl’s perspective. She could trust her more than anyone else to tell her if there was anything wrong at home. “Does he play with you?”

“Lots and lots!” She giggled. “Pop reads books and he likes to play doctor and he’s going to buy me a kitty for Christmas.”

The image of Jim playing doctor with her, helping put a smile on her face when she was feeling poorly with a hurting tummy or a sore throat, made her heart feel warm. She’d never liked Paul, not like Bomi had: he’d dulled Freddie’s sparkle from the vivacious, confident little ballet boy that she’d had, and she felt as though she was beginning to get parts of him back. “Does your Pop like your Daddy?” She asked. 

“Pop kisses Daddy lots and lots.” She stuck her tongue out playfully, pretending to be disgusted. “And he cuddles Daddy lots. Pop doesn’t shout like Papa did.” 

Her little face was peaceful, nothing like the anguish that Jer could only imagine. “Are you happy, darling?” She asked gently. 

She giggled. “Happy!” She nodded eagerly. “Happy, happy!”

* * *

“Freddie!” Jane sang as she came into the room, glancing at the sight of the two lovers broken apart, cheeks stained pink. “Darling, how are you?”

He bit his lip shyly and held out his hand when she picked up the oximeter from his bedside table. “I’m okay.” He nodded.

“I’m going to take your IV out after I’ve taken your blood pressure.” She told him, checking his pulse and nodding. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

“What’s his blood pressure at?” Jim asked curiously.

“He was at fifty-five over thirty-six when he first came in, which is why we’ve had to have the fluids going a lot. He was just so dehydrated because of his fever.” She said sympathetically. “You’re at eighty-five over fifty-eight now. I think it’s still low because of the anaemia, but we’re starting you on those iron patches to help with that. The doctor’s happy that you don’t need IV fluids anymore.”

Freddie smiled. “Thank God. They’ve been blowing me up like a balloon, like some kind of water balloon in a children’s fight.” He laughed. He flexed his fingers when the IV came out, wrinkling his nose a little at the ache that spread through his hand. 

“Well, darling, that’s the first piece of good news.” She smiled. “Your respiratory rate is at fifteen breaths per minute, which is perfectly healthy, it’s come down an awful lot. Your temperature is at thirty five and a half degrees, which is ever so slightly lower than usual, but I’ll put that down to the fact that you’re still a little poorly and it is awfully cold outside.”

“Is there more good news?” Freddie asked, smiling as Jim held the cotton pad on the back of his hand for him when he bled a little.

“You can go home today.” June beamed at him. “Your vitals are good enough, you’ve got a lovely boyfriend who I trust to look after you, and I don’t think you need to spend any longer in an uncomfortable cramped single bed with nurses checking you at half five in the morning.”

“I can go home?” Freddie asked, his face lighting up. After nearly two weeks of inpatient care, he was sick and tired of the little room he’d been in for so long, and he couldn’t wait to be back to the boat. “I can go home!” He squealed, giggling when Jim wrapped him up in a hug and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“You can go home, sweetheart.” June smiled. She leaned up to disconnect his giving tube from his feeding tube; it had finished a little while ago, but Freddie had been tired and hadn’t yet flushed it out. “And you can have your nasal tubes out, if you’d like.”

After a week of dealing with nosebleeds, his tube blocking and kinking, a sore throat, and accidentally catching his tube on almost everything in sight, he couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than going back to using his button. “Oh, please!” He grinned. “Please!”

* * *

“Look at you!” Bomi grinned at the sight of his son, finally looking warmer, happier, healthier. “Oh, Freddie, you look so good!”

“Is Freddie here?” Jer asked. “Oh my God, darling!”

He seemed to glow in the twilight sunshine, his skin glowing a glorious gold, nothing like when he’d seemed so pale and clammy in his little hospital bed. He seemed to shine with renewed vigour, a glitter behind his eyes that she hadn’t seen for so long. She had finally gotten her son back. He laughed under the praise of her gaze and held out his hands playfully. “Surprise!”


	30. Saline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to recalibrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in a really strange mood when I wrote the beginning of this and please beware if mentions of suicide upset you - it's nothing graphic, more of a psychoanalysis of suicidal thoughts, but beware regardless! If you'd like to avoid it, begin this chapter after the first division.

Freddie sat on their bed, listening to the soft ebb and flow of the waves as they lapped against the side of the boat, unable to understand how he felt, let alone how to explain it; he was two weeks to Christmas, what should have been the best Christmas of his life, and his lover was asleep on the sofa downstairs, and his children were tucked up warm and safe in bed, and yet he felt so hollow.

He looked at his hands, his hand decked with a beautiful diamond, and turned them over to look at his palms and his wrists; he traced the scar on his left wrist with the pad of his thumb, shuddering when he felt the skin raised and rough after all this time, eight years of time to heal, and yet he sometimes doubted if he ever would. Sometimes, late at night when everyone was asleep, he considered what it would be like to do it again, wondered if the sting and the biting pain would slow him down, if he’d panic like he had last time; he wondered if he’d just close his eyes.

He liked to imagine it would be romantic - it was the sick fucking part of him that wanted people to miss him, wanted to imagine someone cradling him - but he knew it wouldn’t be: it never was. It would be brutal, he wouldn’t be pretty, he wouldn’t be glamorously tragic like it always looked in the movies: it would be jagged tears in skin already hurt too many times, it would be his children back to children’s homes, maybe never seeing each other again, and it would turn his new bed into a hospital bed that Jim would never unsee, no matter how many times he bleached the room ceiling to floor and changed the sheets.

He stood up and walked to the window, leaning heavily on the sill and watching the sunlight die on the horizon; he leaned his forehead on his wrists to feel his pulse, to remind himself that he was alive as much as he felt otherwise. He wished he was the sun: he wished he could die nightly, expurgated of every bad memory and every scar engraved on his body. He wished he could watch his loved ones mourn and then be the reason that smiles came back to their faces.

He felt selfish for wanting to be the centre of attention. He’d been the centre of attention for weeks when he’d been ill, and he wasn’t used to such extremes; he didn’t like that he felt so alone again.

He picked up the glass of lemonade on the side and downed it all as quickly as he could, to the point that it stung the back of his throat, still tender from the having the tubes removed - he felt awful for doing this to himself, when he’d been doing so well, but he just wanted to fucking feel something - and it took barely minutes before he was feeling so ill he could barely stand.

The sharp pain in his stomach, the immediate sickness, was grounding in the way that the pain from the knife had been, or every time he’d been smacked around or belted or assaulted in some other way; it was all too familiar.

He crawled his way to the bathroom before he was sick on the carpet and sat there a long time, curled up tiny, knees to chest, vomiting and shivering and denying himself the antiemetics that were barely a metre away from him.

“Baby?” Jim came to the door sleepily and pushed it open with his hip. “Everything okay?”

His stomach contracted violently and he was sick again, exhausted with it; his eyes were barely open anymore from the tiredness. Jim frowned and came closer, wrapping a warm arm around his shoulder and rubbing his cold side. “Did you eat something bad?” He asked softly.

Freddie managed to turn his head so that it was resting on his shoulder, inadvertently wiping spit on his t-shirt, and leaned heavily against him. He wasn’t sure where the world ended and his mind started; he replayed an awful kaleidoscope of memories as he punished himself, shaking and shivering and only around half-consciousness as he forced himself through some awful panic-attack-hallucination-exhaustion-delusion.

_ I love you! _ _   
  
_

_ A fist collided with his face, breaking his nose. _

_ I love you! _

_ A foot collided with his stomach, sending him to the floor. _

_ I love you! _

_ A trickle of blood came from his mouth, and another from the back of his head. _

“Freddie?” Jim rubbed his eyes more awake and tapped his cheek gently. “Freddie, can you hear me?”

_ The ache in his skull shot straight through his brain; he wondered, almost idly, if he’d ever be able to walk or talk or breathe ever again. _

He was sick straight down Jim’s front, coughing on it, and Jim sprung into action. “Okay, baby, I’ve got you.” He murmured, unsure if Freddie was even hearing him. He leaned him carefully against the wall, propping between his head and shoulder with the towel - the last thing he needed was for him to choke - and crawled over to the cupboard where he kept all of the medical supplies given to the hospital, grabbing a drainage tube and a syringe. He pulled his t-shirt up as much as he could and attached the tube to his gastric side, relieved when he saw there was at least something to come out - he hadn’t been made so ill merely by his own bile. He’d worry about it being on his bathroom floor later.

He grabbed a saline bag and connected it to the other side - it was so unsterile, his training screamed at him, but he had to get something into him - and did his best to hang it off the towel hooks behind him. He sat beside him and held him up, wrapping a dressing gown around him to help stave off some of the shivering, and kissed his forehead.

“You’re okay, Freddie.” He murmured. “You’re safe, I’ve got you, I’m looking after you. You’re getting better, darling, you’ll start to feel better soon.” He pressed another kiss to his temple. “I love you.”

He picked up Freddie’s wrist, relaxed to feel his pulse beginning to slow a little. “I love you, Freddie.” He repeated. “I love you, and I can’t wait to live with you forever. I can’t wait to watch you dance and I can’t wait to watch our little ones grow up with such a good daddy.”

Freddie turned into his chest a little and he pulled him in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He whispered.

He rested his cheek against Jim’s collarbone, feeling exhausted and thirsty and suddenly wishing he hadn’t resorted to making himself sick just to feel something. “I’m sorry.” He whispered hoarsely. 

“Hello, darling.” Jim cupped his cheek gently. “Are you with me?”

“I’m with you.” He murmured exhaustedly.

Jim leaned over and attached a drainage bag onto the end of his tube now that he knew he was okay. “You gave me one hell of a fright.” He murmured, keeping his voice light so Freddie wouldn’t feel ashamed. “I didn’t realise you were feeling so poorly.”

He looked around the room, his cheeks colouring. “I made one hell of a mess.” He mumbled. 

“Nothing a sponge can’t fix.” Jim kissed his forehead, even the corner of his mouth. “I’m the last person to be squeamish.”

He closed his eyes heavily again. “What have you put me on?” He asked.

“I put a bag of saline on your jejunal side and a drainage bag on your gastric side.” He ran his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “I figured that whatever was in your stomach was making you sick, and you were being pretty badly sick, so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I drained for you.”

“What rate is it on?” He asked tiredly. “It hurts.”

“I know, darling.” He whispered. “It’s just gravity. I didn’t want to leave you to go and get your pole and your pump.”

“I want to get clean.” He murmured. “I’m dirty.”

Jim kissed the top of his head. “Do you want me to leave you in peace for a little while? I can sit outside the door just so I know you’re okay, if that makes you feel better.”

Freddie didn’t want him to leave, not now, not ever - he wanted to stay right here, against his chest, safely for the rest of his life. “Stay.” He whispered. “Stay, stay.”

“Okay, darling.” Jim kissed the top of his head. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. If you hang a towel over the door then you can still have your privacy.”

“No.” Freddie seemed to press closer. “No, I want- I want you.”

“You want me to help?” He checked. 

“Yeah.” His eyelashes fluttered against his shoulder. 

“How do you want me?” He asked, struck by Freddie’s sudden change of heart; he never usually liked to be without at least boxers and trousers around Jim. “By the side of the bath?”

“With me.” He whispered. “Take a bath with me.”

* * *

The warm water felt good against his skin, and he fell asleep at some point against Jim’s chest; he woke a little when Jim dried him, coaxing his arms up to put a sweater on him as though he were one of the little ones.

* * *

“Try these.” Olga threw him a new pair of pointe shoes. “They’re a bit narrower.”

He sat on the floor and carefully pulled them on. “Go lighter on me.” He said shyly. “Jim’ll kick my ass if I get sick again because I’ve overexerted myself.”

“You’re in good hands.” She promised. 

“No, I-” He bit his lip. “I really mean it, okay? I know I say stuff like that and then I carry on as normal, but I mean it this time.” He was trying to be more serious, to better take control of his own health and his own life.

“Darling-” She sat opposite him and took his hands gently. “You’re not the only one who lives with a chronic condition and dances at the same time. I told you, I was in hospital when I was your age, I know what it’s like to come back when you’ve been inpatient for a little while.”

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened. “You’re like me?”

“I had a long period of time when I struggled with gastritis and I had a hole in my stomach. I was in hospital, I had a button like you.” She squeezed his hands. “I know when you need me to be gentle.”

“Do you still have it?” He asked shyly. 

She pulled up her t-shirt a little and showed him. “I don’t use it much anymore. But I do know what it’s like, darling.”

* * *

He pointed his toes, admiring the graceful arch of his foot in the mirror. The shoes were a little more secure on his feet, and he felt graceful in a way that he hadn’t since before his hospital stay; he had lost some of the fluff he’d been holding around his stomach, around his hips, and his body was more fluid and more lithe than it had been in years. 

He was barely even moving, just little movements at the barre, soft and gentle and warm while Olga organised cover for her next class. 

“I love watching you watch yourself.” She commented as she came back into the room, handing him another pair of shoes. “Sew these and break them in. You’ll be needing them.”

He came off pointe and took them curiously. “Why?” He asked, holding the white satin gently. “I’ve never seen white shoes before.”

“We don’t use them much. They tend to look dirty after only a few wears.” She smiled. “But I trust you to keep them lovely.”

Freddie untied his shoes and put the new ones on, though they had no ribbons and no elastic to keep his feet in securely. “Why do I need white ones?”

“I thought they could be your signature.” She joked. “They’re for a role you’re dancing.”

“What am I dancing?” He asked curiously; he couldn’t help if idle movements turned into a grand pirouette as his legs became warmer and warmer.

She whistled playfully, laughing to herself. “You’re my White Swan.”


	31. Purple Cap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it can get a little overwhelming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I was very happy because I was wandering through London (with a limp, as you will know if you've read Indulgence) and I got more stares than the guys in front of me holding hands and I was like I'm so glad I moved to a place where everything like that is so normalised and it doesn't matter at all like I love that so much

Freddie wrapped his jacket around his shoulders a little tighter, shivering in the early evening sunshine. He sat up on the front counter by the main doors to the opera house and grabbed the phone, yawning as he dialled the number for home. His eyes drooped a little as he listened to the monotonous drone of the dialling tone, ready to fall asleep in seconds-

“Hello?” Jim answered, and Freddie could hear the sound of cutlery and laughter in the background - the children were home from school. 

“Baby?” Freddie murmured sleepily. “Can you come and pick me up?”

Jim knew that Freddie sometimes found it difficult to deal with the bustle of the Piccadilly line when he’d been on his feet all day; his energy was still relatively limited while he recovered. “Are you tired?” He asked fondly.

“I’m too tired to do my meds.” He mumbled. “I need your help.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Jim said soothingly. “I’ll be there in a little while.”

* * *

“Where is he?” Jim asked, repositioning his arms on a tired Xavier. Holly was sat on his shoulders, hanging onto him and occasionally his hair - he’d have a conversation with her about that later on - decidedly more awake and excited about being in the opera house. “Sorry, that was rude, I’m here for Freddie.” He smiled at the receptionist.

“It’s no problem!” She smiled, looking through her itinerary for the day’s events. “I’m not exactly sure, I must admit. The last class finished about forty-five minutes ago.”

“Maybe I can help you, darling?” Olga rested a hand on his shoulder. “I put him to bed about a half hour ago.”

“Put him to bed?” Jim asked, bouncing Xavier mindlessly.

“He was about to pass out standing up. We have an old bed that we use in a couple of the ballets, so I gave him one of the backstage keys so that he could go and rest properly.” She explained. “You might need to carry him to the car. Do you want me to take the little ones?”

“You’re probably stronger than I am.” He chuckled, but handed over Xavier regardless. 

“You haul people out of ambulances for a living, I doubt it.” She kissed Xavier’s temple; she’d gotten to know him as though he was her own grandson and he was the sweetest, most affectionate thing she could imagine. “I’ll take you down there.”

“Thank you.” He said with a shy smile. “Thank you for taking such good care of him.”

“He just needs a helping hand. It’s awfully tough to come out of hospital, when he practically hasn’t been moving at all, and then to come straight into rehearsals.” She sighed. “And it’s tough on him to do it when he’s mostly been on feeds recently.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? From a medical perspective?” He asked.

“I mean, you could talk to gastro and put him on a better feed. I feel like he’s not on the best one for his needs.” She commented.

“The hospital put him on a new one while he was inpatient.” He paused, trying to remember the details of it. “One and a half calories a millilitre, I think. Ten/thirty/sixty split.”

“One and a half?” She sounded almost scornful, and Jim’s cheeks coloured. “God, no wonder he’s losing weight. He’d have to get nearly three litres of that down and keep it down just to break even with how much he burns.”

“Is one and a half especially low?” He asked, sounding naive.

“It’s half a calorie more than the stuff they give to newborns.” She told him. “If he’s running it at fifty millilitres an hour for twelve hours, that’s only about a thousand calories a day. He burns six hundred just warming up.”

“Can you think of a better product for him?” He asked hopefully. “I’ll order it through the hospital.”

“They don’t really make feeds that are suitable for people who burn as much as he does. They seem to assume that everyone on feeds is bed-bound and in hospital all the time and not that they can have any real ambition in their life.” She rolled her eyes. “You have to get experimental. Mix them up, though not literally.” She added quickly.

“What would you recommend?” He asked. 

“One low volume, high calorie, as high as you can get. Something like two and a quarter, that’ll do him better. That’ll be a litre and a half he’d need to break even, which hopefully you can get up to when he can start taking it at a higher rate.” Jim was so impressed by her knowledge, feeling again like when he was first a junior, watching his consultant and wondering how he’d ever learn so much. “And then you want one high protein, low fiber. As close to a quarter protein as you can get. And if he’s having a good day, getting him to drink Ensure wouldn’t do any harm. He just needs to bulk back up a bit.”

“Is it really bad?” He asked nervously.

“Not really bad.” She squeezed his shoulder and unlocked the backstage door. “I just can’t have him losing much more. Even if it’s technically a healthy weight, I need him strong.”

“So he needs to be on the heavier side?”

“Not heavier necessarily.” She shrugged. “Just strong, whatever that looks like on him. I want him to be dancing some of the roles that are going to need him to get into lifting, like when he was dancing Des Grieux.”

“There’s so much to remember.” He said bashfully. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s just a different field.” She held the door open for him at the end of the corridor. “You’ll learn, darling. It’s not new to him, he’s just not used to looking after himself at the same time.”

The sight of Freddie, bundled up in the backstage bed, made Jim’s heart swell; he smiled and leaned down next to him, dropping a kiss on his head. “Come on, sleeping beauty.” He chuckled. “Let’s get you home.”

Freddie stretched out a little and rubbed his eye sleepily. “Shit.” He bit his lip and smiled shyly. “I can’t believe I fell asleep at work.”

“You weren’t working anymore, darling, you’d finished your classes.” Olga squeezed his shoulder. “Do you know how many people I’ve caught asleep in the therapy rooms? You’re not the only one.”

He chuckled tiredly and took Holly when she started to reach for him. “Hello, darling.” He murmured, voice still a little low and rough, and kissed her forehead lightly.

“Why were you sleeping, Daddy?” She asked curiously.

“I was tired.” He yawned and laughed a little. “I’m still tired.”

She kissed his cheek and he smiled. “I like it here.” She told him. “Where is it?”

“This is where your Daddy works now, darling.” Jim sat beside them both and smiled. “This is where he dances all day.”

Holly hopped off the bed and ran over to the curtains that led out to the main stage, poking her head through. She gasped as she looked out over the auditorium, the low light that spilled out from the ceiling onto the stage where she stood; her vision was filled with red velvet and gold gilding the chandeliers and hardware on the bannisters, silver light flooding every corner-

“Daddy!” She squealed. “Daddy, look!”

He stood up and walked through the curtains, smiling at the sight of his little girl amongst stage lights. “Do you like it?” He asked. 

“Pretty.” She whispered.

“I got to do a big dance on this stage.” Freddie knelt beside her and smiled. “And there were people in every single one of those seats, watching me.”

She turned to her father and smiled. “Wow.” She whispered.

“Why don’t you show us something, darling?” Olga offered. “Jim hasn’t seen you up on stage yet, and I’m sure your little ones would love it.”

“Only if you’re not too tired.” Jim added quickly. 

“No, I can.” Freddie smiled and rubbed his eye again, standing up. “Did I leave my shoes over there?”

Olga threw him his split-soles. “You’ve been en pointe a lot today, you’ll be better off doing something a bit lighter.”

Freddie pulled his shoes on and curled his toes as he thought. “Can I do Manon act one?” He asked Olga.

“If you’re feeling up to it, darling, be my guest.” She agreed. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

* * *

Jim could barely take his eyes from his lover, watching how gorgeous he looked up on that stage; the only time he glanced away was to look at the look of awe on his daughter’s face, the complete wonder as she realised how incredible her father really was.

* * *

“What am I going to get you for Christmas?” Jim asked, handing Freddie a mug of tea and sitting opposite him on the sofa. “Is there anything you want especially, or shall I surprise you?”

“You don’t have to buy me anything.” Freddie said shyly. “Get things for the children. Santa is going to be especially generous this year because he won’t just be me.”

“I’m going to get things for all of you.” Jim said resolutely. “Don’t you worry, I’ll spoil the children rotten. I want to spoil you, too.”

“I don’t need to be spoiled.” Freddie insisted. “I’ve got everything I need.”

“What about the things that you want?” Jim asked.

“You don’t have to get me anything.” He kept going.

“Are you going to get me something?” Jim changed tack and sipped his own tea.

Freddie nodded immediately. “Of course I am.” He paused shyly, sipping his tea. “I like giving people gifts. I like the look on their faces.”

Jim leaned in and took his hand lightly. “When was the last time somebody gave you a present?” He asked gently.

“You bought me my ring. Mum brought me flowers, Olga brought me my necklace and my jumper and my lip balm.” Freddie recounted. “I’ve had lots of gifts recently.”

“Before that. Before I met you.” Jim squeezed his hand lightly. “Did he buy you lots of gifts?”

“He didn’t really believe in birthdays or Christmas.” He bit his lip, looking down shamefully. “I mean, he liked his own. I used to decorate the house and throw him big parties with all our friends and I used to spend hours cooking all our party food from scratch and I used to make a tower of presents in our lounge, he loved it. He used to be so happy when everybody went home, and the next morning he’d wake up and he’d cook me a big breakfast.”

“What about the children’s birthdays?” Jim questioned.

“He used to buy them a few gifts and he sometimes sang them happy birthday. He was always great with choosing them things that they’d treasure for years.” He smiled a little.

“And what about yours?” He asked carefully.

“I- I didn’t really celebrate my birthday.” He murmured. “Or Christmas, really. I was too busy on Christmas, I did all the food and everything and I was always up half the night wrapping. We had so many people around, I was run off my feet pouring drinks and serving up food and making sure everyone was having a good time.”

“So he never bought you anything?” Jim asked, voice softening.

“No, no, he did.” He said quickly. “Just not on my birthday or anything. I spent a lot of my birthdays in hospital because he used to go quite hard on me when the kids went back to childcare, that’s all. He bought me a lot of jewellery and expensive colognes and that kind of thing, it was his way of saying sorry.”

Jim leaned over and kissed his forehead gently. “I’m sorry, baby.” He murmured. He hated the idea of his birthday being just another day, a day of IV lines and watching the hours disappear and not getting treated to anything special, not ever made to feel good about himself, not ever allowed to celebrate. “I want to buy you something special. I want to make you really happy.”

“I-” Freddie’s cheeks were scorching with his blush. “I’d like a nice scent. A cologne.”

Jim was delighted that he was finally getting to the point that he could admit these things to him, that he was realising he was allowed to like things and want things and be excited by things. “Anything in particular?” He asked gently.

He smiled shyly, looking up from under his eyelashes. “I used to stand by the Givenchy counter in Selfridges and I used to cover myself in Givenchy cologne.” He admitted. 

“Givenchy.” Jim echoed. “Consider it done.”

* * *

“Why are these boxes so fucking heavy?” Freddie huffed. “I can’t lift this!”

“You can lift people, Freddie.” Jim chuckled and grabbed one of the boxes. “It’s a month’s worth of feed, it’s an awful lot of bottles.”

“This isn’t my usual one, is it?” Freddie looked at the box. “There’s more bottles.”

“We’re trying a different one.” Jim told him. “The doctors noted that you were losing weight so we’re putting you on an ultra-high calorie feed.”

Freddie’s face broke out into a smile. “That means I don’t have to up my feed rate?”

“Not quite, darling.” He rested a hand on the small of his back. “We’d like to get it up to as high as you can take, really, but we know it might take a long time.” He kissed his temple.

“When can I start eating properly again?” He asked quietly.

“Once we’ve got your feed rate up around eighty or ninety.” Jim murmured. “But this feed is more curated for you, you should find you’re not getting so tired when you’re dancing. You can keep eating your energy gels and the like, though.”

Freddie looked down at his hands, at the bones in his wrists, and frowned. “I didn’t really realise I was getting thinner. I thought I was just getting leaner from the ballet.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He promised.

“I’m not going to get sick, am I?” Freddie sounded so scared. “I’m not going to starve until I look gaunt?”

“If that were to happen, then they’d change the settings on your pacemaker to help you, and if all that failed then they’d put you on IV nutrition.” He murmured soothingly.

“But then I won’t be able to dance.” He whispered. “I thought I was getting better?” He started to get upset.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jim knelt beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “I’m only talking about the worst case scenario. Most likely we’ll be able to up your feed to around one twenty, you’ll go back to eating normally, and then you’ll forget you were ever ill.”

Freddie sniffed, a tear trickling down his cheek. “I wish I didn’t have to have this.” He rested his hand on one of the boxes. “I feel like it’s my fault.”

“Oh, darling, of course it’s not your fault.” He promised. “You can’t help being injured. You can’t help being sick.”

He nodded and wiped his eyes, rubbing them hard to try and stop himself from crying. “I’m sorry you’re lumped with me.” He mumbled. 

“Never talk about yourself like that.” Jim kissed his forehead. “I love you so much, darling, you don’t ever have to be sorry. I’m so privileged to have a lover like you.”

Freddie nodded shyly. “I love you too.” He whispered. “Thank you.”


	32. Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is coming closer.

He wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here, whether it was his own guilty conscience, remembering what had happened the last time he’d needed someone to satisfy him, or whether he thought he was stronger than he really was; he had been okay when they’d undressed each other, taking their time to be gentle with one another, but his heart had started beating out of his chest when he’d been laid down on the bed with his lover over the top of him, kissing his neck and his collarbones, his hand trailing up and down his sides-

“Are you okay?” Jim murmured, feeling his shaking fingers as they rested on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” Freddie said instinctively, though it wasn’t true at all. “Keep going.”

Jim pulled back a little and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Are you sure?” He checked gently.

Freddie wasn’t used to being treated like this at all; he wasn’t used to consenting, being asked if he was okay and if he definitely wasn’t. He felt awful for being so frightened - Jim was being so gentle with him, taking it far slower than Freddie imagined he wanted to, and yet he still wanted to back out so desperately.

“Do you want me to stop?” He cupped Freddie’s cheek. “It’s okay, darling, talk to me.”

He caught his lip between his teeth and looked away from his eyes. “I’m scared.” He whispered shamefully.

“Okay, baby.” Jim kissed the top of his head. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, tucking up against his chest when he lay down beside him. “I thought- I thought I could do it.” 

Jim swept a hand down his side, rubbing his waist comfortingly as he brought the blanket over the top of them both, helping him feel less open and exposed. “You don’t need to apologise to me, darling.” He murmured. “I told you, we can do everything at your pace. At least you’ve given it a go.”

He nodded a little. “I’m scared it’s going to hurt.” He whispered.

Jim kissed the top of his head. “It doesn’t have to hurt, darling. We don’t have to do everything all in one go.” He murmured.

He rested his head against his shoulder. “I think I’m overtired.” He admitted. “And my stomach hurts really badly.”

“No wonder you weren’t in the right mindset.” Jim pulled him in closer when he felt him shivering. “Have you done your meds?”

He shook his head. “I’m not due them until nine.”

“You can take them a little early so we can get some painkillers into you. You shouldn’t have to suffer.” He whispered. “How about I go and get them and you can take them here?”

He nodded shyly, watching as his lover stood up and pulled his sweatpants on; he wondered how the hell he’d managed to find someone who understood him and loved him so unconditionally. “Thank you.” He said a little louder, smiling a little when Jim beamed over at him.

He pulled himself up to sitting and grabbed his pajama bottoms from the floor, finally feeling a little more confident. Jim came back in with his tablets, sterile water, a tablet crusher, and a syringe; he also balanced a bottle of feed and a giving set under his arm; he blushed at how much he was doing for him, and how much he was willing to do. “I think I’ve got everything.” He chuckled, placing it down on the bed. “I thought we could do it all in one go and get it all done so you can rest.”

He reached for the tablets first and dropped them all into the crusher before he handed it to Jim. “Can you crush them?” He asked hopefully.

“Of course.” He sat opposite him and crushed them while Freddie drew some water into the syringe. He crushed them quickly and handed them back over, watching as Freddie dissolved them in the water. Jim reached over and grabbed his tube extension, linking it up so that he could do his medicine as quickly as possible.

Jim watched as he winced as the medicine went down his tube, breathing through the pain that flared through his stomach. “Do you want me to get you a pain patch?” He asked softly.

“Please.” He murmured. “Can you put it on my back?”

Jim hummed in agreement and opened up his bedside table, getting one from the box and tearing it open, placing it on his lower back. “Do you know what’s made you flare?” He asked gently.

“I ate at work.” He wrinkled his nose as he flushed his line. “Someone brought Christmas biscuits and I had one.”

Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Did it make you sick?”

“I thought I was alright.” He rubbed his head; it was pounding. “But now I’m feeling sick.”

“Okay, darling.” He murmured. “That’s good to know, though. Hopefully you’ll have at least digested some of it.”

He nodded tiredly. He took one of the antiemetics from Jim and put it under his tongue, hoping it would dissolve quickly enough. “I don’t want to do the feed.” He mumbled miserably.

“We don’t have to do it just yet.” He promised. “We can afford to wait a little while.”

“I need to get it done.” He insisted. “I can’t afford to lose anymore weight.”

“It’s up to you, darling.” Jim shrugged. “You can start it at a lower rate and go up a little later if that works for you.”

Freddie softened a little and nodded. “That sounds good.” He agreed, reaching up to his pump to turn it on. He hung up the feed and attached the giving tube, priming it and attaching it and flopping back on the bed when he was done. “I don’t think I’m going to move for the rest of the night.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Jim kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then his lips gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise you weren’t feeling good.”

“Thank you for listening to me.” He murmured. “I- I kind of thought that once I’d said yes, that was it.”

“Never.” He lay down beside him comfortably. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He agreed. “Painkillers are kicking in.”

“I’m glad. I don’t like it when you’re feeling awful.” He admitted. “You can always tell me if you feel bad, I promise.”

* * *

Freddie hadn’t anticipated the busyness of his day, with rehearsals from half nine through until six; Jim was due to finish work at three, meaning he could look after the children when they had finished at their childcare for the day. He hadn’t been expecting Jim to call him around two, flustered as anything, telling him he’d been asked to scrub for surgery because of a lack of nurses - while he wasn’t a surgeon, and couldn’t perform anything complex, he could provide medications and take vitals and stitch anything necessary.

Freddie had dashed half an hour across west London to be there in time for them, and had had no choice but to bring them back to the Opera House - he had another two rehearsals that he wasn’t about to miss, not when he was feeling better in his body than he had in weeks and he’d felt strong enough to dance Odette. He was reliant on the good behaviour of his children, who hadn’t let him down so far - he’d placated them with a bag of sweets and Olga had provided them with colouring pencils and paper from the creche, and so far they’d spent their time intermittently drawing pictures and watching their father.

“You just need to bring your leg down a little quicker.” Olga explained, gesturing with her hand at his foot that was still in Jamie’s hand. 

“I just need to-” He hopped, balancing precariously until he could get his foot on the floor. “I need you to let me go. I keep getting stuck.”

“Are you doing all the work, Jamie?” She chuckled. “Try it again. Let go more quickly, remember, the audience are focusing on both his feet.”

Freddie kicked up his leg again into the palm of his hand and wrapped himself around Jamie’s torso, feeling when Jamie pressed his cheek to Freddie’s calf. He pointed his toe and let himself be turned, focusing on bringing his leg down slowly enough and the turn out, smiling when he saw the happy look on Olga’s face.

Holly stood up and walked over to her. “Why is Daddy’s foot flat?” She asked, pointing at his foot on the ground that was definitely supposed to be en pointe.

Olga laughed and picked up the little girl, hugging her close. “You’re doing my job for me!” She kissed her forehead and chuckled. “Freddie Bulsara, do it properly!” 

Holly looked a little worried. “Daddy isn’t in trouble, is he?” She asked shyly.

“Of course not, sweetness, I’m only playing.” She sat down and sat the little girl on her knee. “I think your Daddy’s a beautiful dancer.”

She smiled and watched him repeat the move, properly this time, her head resting on Olga’s shoulder. “That’s it!” She grinned. “Okay, shall we take a break?”

Freddie nodded, looking a little relieved. “I am so fucking thirsty.” He murmured.

“Language.” She prodded him playfully with her foot. “How’s your stomach?”

“It’s good!” He smiled. “I’m going to bolus about fifteen millilitres through the jejunal side and I’m going to try and drink, too.”

“Sounds good.” She agreed. “Give me a shout if you need to drain.”

“Thank you.” He grinned and went over to his bag, grabbing a syringe and pushing through as much as he could take in one go. He opened up a bottle of isotonic and sat down with his children, looking at their drawings as he took a few sips, pacing it as best he could so that he didn’t end up feeling sick.

“I draw Daddy.” Xavier handed him a paper, revealing a crayon man dressed in striped leg warmers and neon pink shoes; Freddie ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head with a chuckle.

“It’s beautiful, darling.” He murmured.

“Does the lady say things when you’re on stage?” Holly asked curiously, trying to understand more clearly the intricacies of ballet as a career. 

“No, baby.” He explained, taking a few more sips. “She tells me things now so that I can remember them on my own.”

She nodded, pointing her toes like she’d seen Freddie do. “I want Daddy shoes.” She tapped his pointe shoe and smiled when they made a hollow noise.

“You can have shoes like my other ones, darling. You have to train for a very long time to wear these so that they don’t hurt your feet.” He explained, keeping his voice soft and gentle so that he didn’t upset her.

“How long?” She asked, looking fiercely determined.

“I trained for seven years.” He told her. “I started when I was the same age as you.”

She smiled and stood up, running over to Olga. “Excuse me?” She asked, tugging on her sweatpants. “Can I dance?”

Olga’s heart nearly burst and she met Freddie’s eyes, beaming at him and his lovely little family. “Why don’t you bring her to ballet dots on Saturday, Fred?” She asked.

Holly ran back over to her father. “Please, Daddy!” She squeaked. “Please, please, please!”

“Can I bring Xavier and Jim?” He questioned.

“Of course you can, darling. I’d love to see you there.” She smiled. 

“Then we’ll go, sweetness.” He kissed her nose. 

* * *

Jim carefully wound an arm around Freddie’s waist and pulled him into the kitchen, away from the children for a moment. “I need to tell you something.” He said quietly.

Freddie looked a little disheartened; sentences like that never sounded good. “What is it?” He asked quietly.

Jim kissed his knuckles, trying to reassure him. “It’s nothing too bad, darling, don’t worry. I just want you to know that I dropped the case against Paul.”

“You-” Freddie mouthed helplessly for a moment, looking frightened immediately. “You dropped your case?” He whispered.

“Hear me out.” He said quickly. “I went to see him. He agreed to sign the divorce papers and to give you the maintenance payments if I dropped the case, and I knew how much it meant to you.”

He bit his thumbnail nervously. “That means he only got seven years.” He whispered. “He could- he could be out before Xavier’s tenth birthday.”

Jim looked worried, as though he’d done the wrong thing. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am!” He said quickly. “I am, I’m glad I’m divorced. I just-” His eyes fell to the floor. “I don’t want him to get out so soon.”

Jim picked his nails. “I could still pursue it.” He mumbled.

“No.” Freddie said quickly. “No, you- you did the right thing. I should pursue my case.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” He asked carefully. “It’ll be hard, you’ve got time to come to terms with everything if you want to delay it.”

“The longer I leave it, the longer they have to discredit my case. They can argue I’m being coached because of my therapy, they can argue that my memories are being distorted. If I do it now, they haven’t got a leg to stand on.” Freddie sounded more resolute. “It’s my chance to fuck him over.”

Jim laughed a little. “If that’s what you want to do, I froze that evidence of sexual assault when you came in and you didn’t want to prosecute.”

Freddie looked so much more hopeful immediately. “You did?”

“I did. I froze the swabs and the scrapings of his skin from under your nails, they’re safe. I thought you might want them some time.” He explained.

Freddie threw his arms around him. “Thank you.” He murmured. “I thought- I thought I had no proof.”

“I just wanted to give you the chance.” Jim kissed him softly. “Just in case you ever wanted it.”

* * *

“Dad, I-” Freddie sat down opposite his father, tucking his legs up underneath himself. “I need some advice.”

“Go ahead.” He agreed, sipping his tea. “What can I help with?”

“How do you know if you’re really in love?” He asked shyly. “How can I tell?”

“Well, how did it feel with Paul?” Bomi asked, and Freddie winced. He hadn’t loved him voluntarily; he’d been coerced into loving him, and it wasn’t the same.

“It didn’t.” He mumbled. “I don’t know if I’m feeling all the wrong things.”

“What do you feel if you’re with Jim?” He asked kindly. “What kinds of emotions?”

“I-” His cheeks heated. “He makes me feel all warm. I- I feel safe when I’m with him. I feel like I can sleep because I’m not frightened of what he might do. But I’m scared of getting too attached to him.”

“That makes sense, darling.” Bomi leaned over and squeezed his hand. “Why are you afraid of getting attached?”

“Because I was attached to Paul and he used it to hurt me.” He murmured. “Because he used that attachment to control me. I’m scared that if I really am in love then Jim will do the same.”

“Oh, darling.” Bomi wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “Not everybody is out to get you. I know that you’re vulnerable, and I know that the wrong people have gotten to you before, but that doesn’t mean Jim wants you only because he thinks he can get something out of you.”

“I just don’t know how to tell if I can trust him.” He admitted.

“Has he ever done anything to hurt you, or belittle you, or knock you down in any way?” He asked. 

Freddie bit at his thumbnail. “No.” He whispered.

“Then I would say trust him until he gives you a reason not to.” He said honestly. “And if he gives you a reason to not trust him, you come straight to me, and I’ll look after you.”

Freddie rested his head against his father’s shoulder. “Thank you, Daddy.” He murmured quietly, sounding like a child again; he was thankful just to have this relationship back, to have a father who wanted to love and care for him unconditionally as though he was newborn all over again. “Can I invite someone else over for Christmas?” He asked shyly.

“I’ll have to get a bigger turkey.” He chuckled. “Of course you can. Who is it?”

“My dance teacher, Olga.” He said quietly. “Her family live in Canada and she always goes to see them over Christmas but her flight has been cancelled and she can’t get another until the twenty-sixth. She’ll be spending Christmas on her own, and I don’t like the idea of that.”

“It is sad.” He agreed. “Does she know anyone else in the family?”

“She knows Jim and my kids. She’s almost like another grandma to them.” He explained, hugging his knees. “She’s wonderful with them whenever I have to take them into work. She’s done a lot for me in the last few months, she’s helped me all through rehab and right up onto stage and I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“I’d like to meet the woman who’s made my son into a little star.” Bomi kissed his forehead. 

“She’s got a tube like me.” He murmured. “She’s been helping Jim and the doctors set up a better feed for me, and she knows just what it’s like to rehearse when you’re sick like me. She always seems to know when I need a break.”

Bomi smiled. “We definitely need to say thank you, then, don’t we?” He chuckled. “You should buy her a nice gift from all of us.”

“You’re right.” Freddie smiled. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few names I haven't seen in the comments recently - is everyone busy because of school/work/Christmas or are people waiting for this to be over?


	33. London Symphony Orchestra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some new revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not only have I sprained my ankle but I also have a cold! Ladies and gentlemen, this is why summer is so much better.
> 
> Edit: this chapter is 4500 words what the actual hell I wrote this in like three hours?!

Freddie’s head was thrown back against his collarbone, sweat-slick skin rising and falling more evenly as his panting slowed; his eyes were still closed, one hand resting on the both of Jim’s, clasped tightly around his waist. He breathed out slowly, leaning up to kiss his lover softly, lightly, gently, reassuring and grounding and comforting; he smiled when Jim cupped his cheek carefully. “How are you feeling?” Jim asked, stroking his hair.

He couldn’t begin to explain how he felt - it had taken seven attempts for them to get to this, to be confident enough to give himself over like that, and he felt so fucking proud of himself for letting go. He felt incredible, and his body felt so heavy and sedated and relaxed; he felt as though all his nervous energy had finally left his body. 

He smiled giddily and turned into his chest. “I feel so good.” He whispered. “I- I’m so glad I did it.”

Jim kissed his forehead and smiled, laying back on their bed. “You weren’t shaking that time.” He murmured. “It was when you laughed, that’s when I knew it was different this time.”

Freddie smiled as Jim’s hand skimmed over his back. “It was different. I- I let myself go, this time. I trusted you to look after me, and you did.” He smiled. “I really trust you.”

Jim kissed him gently. “I love you so much.” He murmured. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for not abusing my trust.” Freddie whispered. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“You feel a lot more relaxed.” Jim swept a hand over his arm.

Freddie nodded. “I feel- it’s like when I finish a show, and it’s like I’m nice and calm because I’m all tired out. I think I was so worried about it, to know I can do it makes me calmer.”

Jim smiled. “Did it hurt?” He asked gently.

“I mean, I- I won’t lie to you.” He bit his lip. “At first it kind of did. I nearly asked you to stop, but I thought- I thought I needed to give it a go. And it got a lot better, I thought it would be a lot worse than it was.”

Freddie traced a love heart on Jim’s side when he kissed his head. “Would you like me to do anything different next time?”

“I liked that you were slow. I liked that you took your time with me.” He smiled. “I don’t want to do it all the time, but I- it was nice to do it this time.”

“Oh, we’ll both be too tired to do it too much.” Jim chuckled. “A consultant and a ballet dancer.”

Freddie smiled and settled down comfortably when Jim wrapped the blanket around them both. “I tell you what, I can’t be fucked to do anything else now.”

Jim laughed. “That’s called afterglow, baby. Makes you lazy as anything.”

The feeling of all Jim’s bare skin against his own made him shiver; he felt so liberated that it didn’t frighten him any more. He fell asleep that evening warm, loved, and oh-so-proud of himself.

* * *

“I’m going to reprogramme your pacemaker slightly.” Chelsea explained. “This might seem cruel, but I want you to drink just enough to make yourself feel sick, and then we can tell if it’s more effective.”

“Will it hurt?” He asked nervously, looking at the range of scalpels on the counter.

“Oh, no!” She smiled. “We do it all with a scanner. The only discomfort will be the brief nausea you’ll feel.”

He nodded and took a bottle of Ensure from her; it took about a quarter of the bottle for the pain to start in his stomach. “That’s it.” He murmured, sounding a little queasy.

“Okay.” She agreed. “Breathe through it for me, this should make it better.”

She scanned his pacemaker and brought the settings up on her screen, adjusting the machine so that it worked a little harder. He felt the moment that it changed; the nausea faded away, and he felt almost as though his body was normal again.

“That’s fucking incredible.” He smiled shyly. “That- it didn’t feel like that before.”

“It’s hard to gauge the severity of your illness, darling, so we had the settings too low. That’s why I wanted to do this for you.” She explained. “This is how it should work. Did you bring something to eat like I asked?”

“Yeah.” Freddie looked excited to eat for the first time; it wasn’t a chore to try and make his body function. “Jim made chocolate muffins for the children last night, I was jealous that I couldn’t eat with them.”

“Happy Christmas.” She chuckled. “Try eating that for me. If you start to feel sick, tell me, I’ll turn the settings up a bit more.”

He tore a piece off, and he understood why his little ones had gone so crazy when they’d first come out of the oven; Jim’s cooking was divine. The muffin seemed to melt in his mouth, rich and gorgeous and everything he’d craved when he’d felt shut out from family meal times-

“I think it needs to go up a bit more.” He murmured, starting to feel a little nauseous half-way through his muffin. 

“Try this.” She turned it up higher; Freddie felt so liberated when the nausea disappeared again.

“I can’t believe it’s- it’s so easy to get rid of.” He beamed. “I thought I was stuck with that sickness for the rest of my life.”

“That’s the wonders of medicine for you, darling.” She chuckled. “I’m so glad it worked for you.”

* * *

Freddie threw his bag down on the floor, his shoes clattering as he kicked them onto the rack, his keys rattling in the dish by the door: he felt as though he could fly, so liberated and so happy and feeling so normal, what he’d wished for all along. He hung up his jacket and waltzed into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his lover from behind and kissing the back of his neck playfully. “What’s for dinner?” He asked curiously.

Jim chuckled and turned around in his lover’s arms; he was taken aback by the happiness behind his eyes and the rosiness in his cheeks. “You look wonderful.” He murmured, kissing him softly. “Good day?”

Freddie stood on his toes and kissed him again. “Very good day, thank you. I took part in the coda today, it was my first time, I felt so wonderful.” He smiled up at his lover and went over to the fridge, picking out a punnet of raspberries from the bottom drawer and tearing it open. He didn’t miss the quirk of his lover’s eyebrow as he popped one in his mouth, and he teased him by mimicking him. “Want one?”

He took one, smiling though he looked a little confused. “How’s your stomach?” He asked gently.

“I went to the hospital today.” He told him. “They’ve adjusted my pacemaker.”

Jim’s face moved from consideration to realisation to elation. “So how does it feel now?”

“I ate one of your muffins and a bottle of Ensure and I didn’t feel sick at all.” He grinned. “Like- not at all, not even slightly.”

Jim kissed him excitedly. “So you’re okay? You can eat properly?”

“I have to be careful.” He admitted. “I can’t go straight into eating full meals or anything because I don’t want my stomach to just dump it. But I can eat fistfuls at a time.”

Jim hugged him tight, so excited for him. “I bought stuff for a daal, do you want some?” He offered. 

Freddie beamed at him. “One of my favourites.” He kissed his lover’s cheek. “Is there enough for me?”

“Of course there is.” Jim rolled his eyes playfully. “It’ll be tastier than your usual.”

“Oh, we love Vivonex.” Freddie hopped up on the kitchen counter and popped another raspberry in his mouth. “It smells like shit, looks like cement and tastes even worse. I think if the blender ever exploded, it’d weld to the walls.”

Jim laughed as he went to the fridge, grabbing the ingredients he needed. “You’re not even on Vivonex anymore.”

“I’m being dramatic. I hated Vivonex more than anything.” He laughed. “At least they had the decency to make Boost taste like vanilla. Vomiting pure chemicals is horrendous.”

Jim rubbed his thigh comfortingly. “Does it make life easier?” He asked curiously. “You know, never having to decide what you want to eat?”

“I love cooking.” Freddie frowned. “And I never feel full, that’s the worst. When you work so damn hard all day, and you’re starving hungry, but you have to run the feed so slowly and it doesn’t go through your stomach so you never don’t feel hungry unless you’re bloated to hell.” He shook his head. “It’s less decisions, but it’s not worth it.”

“And I guess the fuss of having the tube and having to clean it and protect it and check the positioning and dealing with infections probably outweighs the amount of time it takes to make a meal.” Jim offered.

“Exactly. They’re both a hassle in their own way. The good thing about food is that it’s really easy to put on weight, too. A bar of chocolate is the same as an hour’s feed.” Freddie smiled. “That muffin is like as much as I can manage in a day at the moment. I hate being some slim little thing.”

“You’re going to be buff as hell.” Jim chuckled. “I’m so happy for you, darling.”

“I’m going to eat some dinner and run my feed tonight, I’m going to see how high I can tolerate it now.” He poured himself a glass of water, smiling to himself. “You have no idea how liberating it is to just drink when you’re thirsty and eat when you’re hungry.”

Jim kissed his temple. “Dinner will be about a half hour.”

Freddie took a few mouthfuls and winked at him. “I’m going to go and say hello to the kids and I’m just going to go and finish stretching out. I missed out on cooling down because I had to go to the hospital.” 

Jim nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll call you up.”

Freddie jumped off the counter and waltzed into the lounge, smiling to himself. “How are my little monsters?” He asked, smiling when the children ran over to him and hugged his legs. “Oh, hello!”

“Daddy!” Holly shouted, jumping up and down. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

“Hello, sweetness.” He chuckled, kneeling down and kissing both of their foreheads. “Have you been good for Pop?”

Her father looked different in her eyes; she didn’t know what it was, but he was looking happier now, and that made her happy. “Very good.” She giggled. 

“I’m glad.” He chuckled. 

“Will you draw, Daddy?” She asked hopefully, holding out a pencil for him. “Draw Pop!”

“Later, darling. Daddy’s got to go and stretch first.” He told her. “I’ve been dancing all day!”

She followed him curiously into the next room; she loved to watch her father dance, or exercise, or stretch. She stood behind the doorway to the bedroom, peeking around the corner to watch as he got down to the floor, preparing to do a few push ups to help strengthen his shoulders-

She giggled and leaped over his legs as he lowered to the floor; Freddie chuckled as he watched her over his shoulder. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked with a laugh. 

“Bounce!” She giggled. He lifted himself and lowered again, and she giggled as she jumped back over his legs, landing with her hands and feet on the floor to steady herself. Xavier toddled into the room, and Jim was quick to follow with all the laughter; Xavier watched his sister as she jumped and came over to both of them, looking as though he was going to try himself.

“I don’t know whether he’ll make it over.” Jim chuckled, wiping his hands on a tea towel. Freddie lowered himself as far as he could go, holding himself until his muscles began to tremble under the strain: his little boy clambered onto his back instead, hugging around his middle, and Freddie felt as though his heart could burst.

“Oh, baby!” He laughed, pushing himself upright with the added weight of his son, before pushing out a few more repetitions, watching his little boy over his shoulder. “I’ve got a little helper!”

“Look, Daddy!” Holly said, holding her feet like his in class and playing at doing a plié, looking so proud of herself. “Look, look!”

Freddie turned to her and smiled to himself. “Look at that fifth position!” He said proudly. He felt as though he was connecting with his children more than he ever had before, as though they were loving him as a person instead of just because of his abstract value as a father. As a dancer, as more than just someone’s beaten-down husband, he could be something that they could look up to: they could look up to him as someone loved and loving, a man determined and driven and hard-working, a man who knew his ambition and knew how he could get there. He could teach them everything that he’d learned, he could teach them more than how to be a placid, quiet victim that put up with whatever he’d been given.

He laughed as Holly climbed onto his back on top of her brother, laying down on the floor with his children laying on top of him; he closed his eyes contentedly and smiled to himself. Jim lay down beside him and kissed him lightly: both men burst out laughing when Xavier and Holly started making ridiculous kissing sounds.

Freddie smiled and kissed his lover again in defiance. “You know, I was thinking about what I said to you before about never wanting to be married again.” He said softly. “And I- I think I feel differently. I think if we were together for a long time, like a few years, then I would. I’d marry you.”

Jim’s cheeks coloured and Freddie’s heart could’ve burst with how beautiful and shy he looked. “You’d marry me?”

Freddie kissed him softly. “I’d marry you. I trust you just about more than I trust anyone else on this damn planet.” He chuckled.

“I love you so much.” Jim cupped his cheek and stroked his cheekbone. “I can’t believe you just stumbled into my life on a random Wednesday night shift.”

“He’s getting all emotional.” Freddie teased. “I love you too.”

* * *

Jim knelt on the floor and pulled Holly onto his knee, kissing her forehead as she cried against his chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered. “It’s okay, baby, it’s just a little graze, you’re going to be okay.” He promised her.

She cracked open her eyes, took one look at the smudge of blood on her knee, and started howling again. “There’s blood!” She was almost screaming, shaking with fright. 

“Shush, darling, it’s only a little bit.” He stroked her hair. “I’m a doctor, aren’t I? I know just how to make it feel better.” He smiled. 

She rubbed her eyes; she was over-tired, hyper-emotional, but she trusted her father because of how much Freddie trusted him. “How?” She hiccupped a little.

Jim sat her up on the sofa and went to the bathroom quickly, picking up two packets of plasters and sitting on the floor in front of his little girl. “Shall we have a Mr. Bump plaster or a ballerina plaster?” He asked her.

She started to smile again. “Ballerina.” She murmured.

Jim cleaned off her knee with a wipe and carefully stuck a plaster over the little scrape on her knee, soft and gentle. “Shall I show you the doctor magic?” He asked playfully.

Her little eyes brightened and she nodded. “Please.”

“When I show you, it means you can use this magic, too. It’s a special power than I can pass onto you.” He told her. He leaned forward and pressed a butterfly kiss to the plaster, making her giggle. “Does it still hurt?”

She nodded resolutely, though she was still giggling, and he gasped dramatically. “Still?” He widened his eyes playfully. “Maybe she’s dying! Maybe I need to feel her heart-” He pressed his fingers onto her wrist. “Feel her breathing-” He pressed his fingers to her sides and she giggled louder, ticklish. “Maybe even her temperature!” He tickled under her neck and she screeched with laughter, kicking her little legs, knee completely forgotten.

“Pop!” She screeched, giggling incessantly. “Poppa! Poppa!”

He picked her up and spun her around, kissing her nose and holding her against his chest. “How’s your knee now, angel?” He asked softly.

She smiled tiredly and rested against him, feeling his heartbeat in his chest. “Thank you.” She said by way of answer, and he pecked her temple. “Will I have to have a tube like Daddy?” She whispered.

Jim frowned and rubbed her back, walking slowly around the room to help soothe her to sleep. She was due her afternoon nap soon, and he could tell that she needed it. “Why would you need a tube, princess?”

“Because Daddy had blood and then he had a tube.” She murmured. “Will my tummy break?”

“No, baby, don’t worry.” He kissed the top of her head. “That’s because it was Daddy’s tummy that was hurt, not his knee. You won’t need to have a tube.” He felt her relax against him and smiled when she closed her eyes. “Is it time for bed?”

She nodded and he held her safe and secure, taking her towards the stairs when the doorbell rung. “One second, darling.” He kissed her temple and went to the door, opening it quickly.

Bomi stood there, smiling, and Jim felt his heart quicken a little: he was still trying to impress Freddie’s family. “Hello.” He murmured shyly. “Freddie isn’t home at the moment. He’s still at work. Would you- can I get you a tea? Coffee?”

Bomi smiled at how nervous he was; it was strangely endearing. “It looks like you’ve got other priorities first of all.”

Holly was all but asleep against his chest, and he smiled a little. “I was just about to put her down for a nap.”

“Don’t let me interrupt you.” He chuckled. “You put her down, I’ll go and put the kettle on.”

It was the quickest bedtime ever; Jim managed to put the little girl to sleep in only a few minutes. He dashed up the stairs to the kitchen and then hovered in the doorway, nervously watching his father-in-law search his cupboards. “What- what are you looking for?”

“Tea. Have you got any English Breakfast?” He asked. “I can only find Earl Grey.”

“It’s all Freddie drinks.” Jim came into the kitchen and dug out a box at the back of the cupboard. “I’m more of a coffee man myself.”

“That’s because you work shifts.” He chuckled. “Nights aren’t always fun, are they?”

“Definitely not.” Jim agreed. “Have you done it yourself?”

“I worked nights at Heathrow when we first moved to London, it was the only job going. The kids were about the same age as yours, maybe a little younger.” He nodded. “I know what it’s like.”

Jim found himself relaxing a little. “I can’t imagine Heathrow is a fun place to work.”

“This was over thirty years ago. It was decidedly quieter then.” He chuckled. “I was one of the baggage boys. I’d barely broken twenty, I couldn’t get anything better and I had to feed my family somehow.”

“You must’ve been young when you had Freddie, then.” Jim commented.

“Seventeen.” He nodded. “His mother was fifteen. That’s why we moved to England, we were disgraced back home.”

“Was England better for you?” He asked. 

“Oh, so much better! Look at all the options that it gave my kids that they would never have had if we’d stayed in India. I’ve got two children and two principal dancers, I couldn’t ask for more.” Bomi smiled.

“Freddie isn’t-” Jim started.

“He’s a principal in all but name.” Bomi rolled his eyes. “And pay check, unfortunately. His sister blows him out the water when it comes to money.”

“I never knew Kash danced.” Jim said quietly. 

“They chased each other through school. Freddie started ballet when he was three, so Kash wanted to do it too, and then Freddie was dancing four days a week so she had to do it five, and then he did company auditions. He got into White Lodge at thirteen, but she didn’t, and then all hell broke loose.” He chuckled wearily, rubbing his forehead and pouring a tea and a coffee. “She went to the English National school instead when she was sixteen, which was a relief, and then she moved up into their company. She always scorned the Royal just a little, because that was always Freddie’s. Then she went professional and he didn’t.”

“That must’ve been one hell of a competitive household.” Jim chuckled.

“God, wasn’t it just? It was terrible, as well, because he’s got a year and a half on her and so he was always slightly better and I didn’t want that to get her down.” He explained.

“Holly’s decided that she wants to dance now.” Jim smiled at the memories. “She’s learned her fifth position already from her father.”

Bomi smiled over at him. “I wanted to talk to you about Freddie, actually.”

Jim’s heartbeat sped up again. “What is it?” He asked, feigning calm.

“Well, I never got to do the old shovel-talk because you knew him better than I did for a little while.” He leaned against the kitchen counter. “But I want to know your plans. I want to know where you see yourself with him in the future.”

Jim sipped his coffee nervously. “I don’t know if there are any concrete plans.” He admitted. “I’m trying to take things as best I can at his pace. I don’t want to make plans in case they massively contradict with what he’s ready for.”

The smile on his face made Jim relax a little. “Good answer. How are you finding things with Freddie?” He saw the look on Jim’s face and rolled his eyes a little. “Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. I know he’s a handful, I want to know what you really think.”

“I don’t know if he’s a handful.” Jim found his voice a little. “He’s taken a lot of big steps recently, and he’s getting a lot better.”

“What kind of steps?” He asked curiously.

“There are some things that he won’t necessarily want me to talk about.” He said quickly, his cheeks reddening: he didn’t need to know about his son’s sex drive or lack thereof. “But he’s on antidepressants and anti-anxiety tablets now, he’s been going to therapy a lot, his eating has gone through the roof recently, he’s a lot stronger and a lot more energetic.”

He smiled. “And how does that reflect on you?”

“It’s made my life easier.” He admitted. “I worry less about him now. He’s- he’s still very vulnerable, but I feel a little more like he can stand up for himself now. I used to sit at work and wonder whether he would’ve gotten upset during the day, but he’s a lot stronger now.”

“Where would you like to be in a few years time?” He asked. “Within yourself?”

Jim paused for a few moments. “I’d like to train to teach within the hospital. Right now I’ve been doing some work where I have juniors on my ward that I’ve had responsibility of, but I’d like to do some of their training when they first come into the hospital setting. I had to do it in an emergency setting once, I taught a junior doctor how to do a tracheostomy right in the middle of a busy ward on a Saturday night, and I realised that I really love to teach.”

“So you don’t plan to move out the emergency department any time soon? You don’t plan to specialise on a ward?” He asked.

“Emergency is the only place I’ve ever wanted to work. I know that it’s shifts, and I know that it means the work is less predictable for the family, but I want to work in what I’m passionate about. It’s so demanding, it can be so awful, that if you’re not passionate then it eats you alive.” He admitted. “Emergency is my specialism.”

He nodded. “What about the rest of your life?”

“I don’t want to move far from Kensington, but I’m considering maybe getting us a slightly bigger place so that we can make sure the children have their own rooms and their own space as they get a little older. I’d like- I want to start a garden?” He laughed shyly. “I’m auditioning for a place at the London Symphony Orchestra.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “The Symphony Orchestra?”

“I’m a cellist.” He rubbed his neck shyly. “It’s my hobby. The job should be manageable with the shifts, because the rehearsals are three times a week and the performances are more ad-hoc.”

“Does Freddie know? I feel as though he would’ve told me about it.” He asked.

“I haven’t really mentioned it.” He bit his lip. “I don’t want him to think I’m trying to overshadow him when he’s doing so well with the ballet.”

“He’s not that kind of man.” Bomi promised. “He’ll be excited for you. He- he gets so close behind other people’s ambitions that they almost become his own. He’ll come to every single one of your rehearsals.” He chuckled.

Jim heard the click of his key in the lock as he came through the door. “Darling, I’m home!” He called out playfully, kicking off his trainers.

He looked into the kitchen. “No little feet? What have you done with my children?” He asked playfully. “Have you eaten them?”

Jim’s face lit up when he saw his lover. “I’ll have you know that I’m responsible and I put them to bed when they were getting tired.” He said, pressing a very chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Freddie glanced around and his cheeks pinkened when he turned around to see his father, eyebrow arched playfully. “Hello.” He murmured shyly, smiling through the embarrassment. “Have I interrupted something?”

“No, darling, we were just talking about your boyfriend’s audition.” Bomi grinned devilishly.

It was Jim’s turn to blush as Freddie turned back to him curiously. “Audition?”

“I- I might be joining an orchestra.” He mumbled shyly.

“It’s not any old orchestra, though. He’s going for the LSO.” Bomi grinned. “I thought you might like to know.”

“That’s so incredible!” Freddie hugged him. “When is it? Where is it? What are you playing? How are you feeling about it?”

“Freddie!” Jim laughed. “I don’t even know if I’m good enough, it’s a bit of a whim.”

Freddie scoffed. “If I can get into the Royal, you can do anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter count might spike again - I don't know how many of these subplots I still have to tie up! Thank you to everyone who took the time to comment on the last chapter - it was lovely to hear from some new faces!


	34. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of vignettes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Christmas(!) and the following chapter is the epilogue - I can't believe we're so close!

She glanced around as she walked through the front doors, the doors that her brother walked through on a daily basis; she looked around the beautiful arches of the Opera House in awe, wondering whether he thought this was normal or if he realised how gorgeous his company building really was. She signed in at the front desk - Freddie had signed in nearly an hour ago, and she smiled at the sight of his gorgeous sloping copperplate writing, nothing like her own hasty scrawl - and listened for the instructions of how to reach the morning warm up class.

She jogged up the stairs, following the signs to the Clore Studio, and looked around at the room in the beauty of the morning sunshine; her brother was across by the opposite wall, talking to a woman she didn’t recognise. He was wrapped up in a sweater and leggings, wearing leg warmers up to his mid-thighs, and he was adjusting the drawstring on a new pair of split-soles.

“Do I need to go en pointe today?” Freddie asked Olga, weighing his pointe shoes in his hands. “What are my rehearsals?”

“You’ve got Swan Lake afterwards with me, so you’ll need to be warmed for that. I think Christopher wanted to talk to you about The Sleeping Beauty, too.” She shrugged. “I doubt you’ll need them for that, though.”

“I think he was considering me for the Bluebird.” He smiled.

“Maybe even more than that.” She tapped the bottom of his foot playfully with her toe and chuckled. “You’ve stolen everyone’s hearts. Have you read your reviews?”

“Oh, you flatter me!” He said playfully and stood up, catching a glimpse of his sister across the room and arching an eyebrow. “What are you doing here, traitor?” He asked, grinning at the use of the nickname they’d used for each other as children.

She sat down next to him and kissed his cheek. “I’ve infiltrated your ranks.” She shot back with a wink. “Christopher contacted me because so many of you got injured, you haven’t got enough women that aren’t on holiday or injured to actually make up your cast. He wondered if I’d like to come and dance with you.”

“I’m surprised you said yes.” He admitted, watching as she pulled on her pointe shoes. “Christ, start en demi. You’ll break your toes doing the warm up completely en pointe, change before we go to centre.”

“You’d know, would you?” She quirked an eyebrow. 

Freddie pulled his pointe shoes from his bag and raised an eyebrow straight back. “I would.”

“He’s right, you know.” Olga smiled and held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Olga, I’m one of the senior ballet masters. You must be Kashmira. Do you know Freddie well?”

“Kash, please.” She gave a sunny smile and shook her hands before swapping her shoes obligingly. “I suppose you could say that.” She chuckled, looking over at Freddie and kissing a warm cheek.

“She’s my sister.” He explained, not wanting to look as though he was cheating on Jim. “We danced together until I was thirteen and she was twelve.”

Olga could immediately see the similarities in the quirked eyebrow, the laughter behind their eyes, the gorgeous colours in their skin tones and their eyes. They even had the same curl of their head on their forehead, and they both blew it out of their face when it got in the way; the sight made her smile. “What happened after that?”

“Freddie was a traitor.” Kash grinned. 

“I got into White Lodge and she didn’t.” He stuck his tongue out at her playfully. “She went to the National school instead.”

“Which is why you work for us and you work for the National.” She turned to Kash and chuckled. “It’ll be nice to have you here. Maybe we’ll steal you.”

“She’s far too loyal for that.” Freddie insisted.

“Well-” Kash stumbled. “I mean, it depends on how much stage time you want to give me. I’m a little sick of doing two shows a month.”

“Two shows a month?” Freddie sounded horrified. “I do three shows a week.”

Olga looked between them and chuckled. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?” She replied cryptically. “Come on, shoes on, we’re late.”

Freddie stood up and walked out a little stiffness in his calves. “If you fall behind, just copy me.” He teased.

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” She laughed. “I’ll be fine, thank you, darling.”

* * *

“Freddie!” Christopher knocked on his dressing room door. “You’ve got rehearsals, come on!”

“Hang on!” He called back, stepping on his pill crusher to try and get one of the tablets to break. “I’ll be like- five minutes.”

He pushed the door open and looked over the pair of them, Freddie in the midst of doing his medications and Kash sat lazily on the floor in her splits, leaning forward on her elbows and watching him. “It better be a quick five minutes.” He grinned.

“It’ll be as quick as I can get these bastards to crush.” He muttered, making Kash laugh.

“Give them here, idiot.” She murmured, taking the pill crusher and crushing it between the palms of her hands. “Done.”

“Alright.” Freddie huffed playfully. “Have you decided what you want me to dance yet?” He asked Christopher conversationally. “Am I doing the Bluebird?”

He leaned against the wall and smiled. “You’ve got Aurora in your room, you should be able to guess.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “She’s my sister, firstly. I thought Matt was playing Florian?”

“You think I’m going to have one principal for a two month showing of one of the most popular ballets on the calendar? I’m not suicidal.” He chuckled. “I’ve got Matt and Stephen lined up, but I’d also like you to play Florian.”

Freddie looked happy and surprised and adorable and Kash had very rarely seen that look on his face, the pride that sweetened the expression on his face. It was reminiscent of the smile when she’d first ever seen him dance, his feet shakily pointed but overwhelmed by the confidence he had. “Can I dance with him?” She asked hopefully.

“You want to kiss your own brother?” Christopher asked.

“Christ, he’s my brother, not a troll.” Kash leaned over and pecked his lips. “See, he didn’t eat me alive.”

“The Bulsaras up in lights.” Freddie smiled shyly.

“Oh, you’ll be a Hutton before long.” Kash rolled her eyes playfully.

Freddie’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

The smile grew on Kash’s face. “Dad says Jim wants to marry you.”

* * *

“Occupational health is the bane of my life.” Freddie murmured, leaning heavily on his lover. “They want to analyse me like I’m some kind of specimen.”

“They just want to check you’re healthy, baby.” Jim kissed his temple. 

“Why don’t I save them the time? We all know I’m not healthy.” Freddie huffed. “I’m healthier, but that doesn’t mean I’m healthy.”

“You’re getting there.” Jim soothed. “Don’t worry so, sweetheart.”

“I’m just scared they’ll use it to write me off. Too sick, too old, whatever.” He admitted.

“You’re thirty-four, Freddie, and you’re up with the best of them. They’re not going to write you off. Alex has been in with them because of his ankle, Steven has been in there because of his Achilles, it’s not just you. You haven’t be singled out, darling, don’t worry.” He murmured.

Freddie sighed and nodded, squirming in the uncomfortable chair and picking at his fingernails. “He used to- he used to get all up in my head about it. He used to feed me all these lies that every time I had one of these reviews, it was because they were preparing to kick me out, they were looking for evidence, and I can’t not think about that now.” He admitted.

“That makes sense, darling.” Jim kissed his temple again. “But that’s not what it’s about at all. They just want to know that you’re not liable to injury or illness every time they put you up on that stage.”

“Freddie?” The nurse smiled at both of them. “Are you ready to come in, darling?”

He sighed and nodded. “I’m guessing you want me straight on the scales, right?”

“That would be the first step.” She nodded. “I’m not trying to catch you out, darling, I know you’ve recovering.”

Freddie scuffed his toe on the ground and stepped on, avoiding looking at the numbers; he didn’t like to know if he was failing on all his goals. He’d been just over nine stone when he’d been in the hospital, though that had faded into weeks and weeks ago now, when he’d been incessantly losing because of the fucking feed-

“You’re just over ten stone, darling, that’s a perfectly healthy weight.” She smiled.

Freddie looked up, immediately looking delighted. “I’ve put that much on?”

“You’ve been working hard.” She said happily. “This is why your doctors are so proud of you.”

His cheeks warmed and he looked back at Jim, who shrugged coyly. “Did you know I’d put on this much?” He asked.

“Maybe.” Jim grinned. “I’m not blind to your improvement, sweetheart. You’re a lot less frail than you were in hospital.”

Freddie jumped off the scales and ran over to him, hugging him tightly. “I didn’t realise- I didn’t know!”

“I think you did know, secretly.” The nurse said gently. “You can’t have been blind to the fact that you were getting a lot stronger. You haven’t been struggling so much with your lifts recently, I’ve heard Olga talking about you an awful lot.”

Freddie smiled shyly. “Do you need any other measurements? Or tests?”

“I’d like to get your height. If I could take a blood test, too, that would be wonderful.” She said hopefully. 

“Can you do the blood test first? I hate them, I want it over and done with.” He admitted, rolling up his sleeve. “Then you can do anything else, I don’t mind.”

She nodded and grabbed the vial and the needle she needed. “Is a blood test standard practice?” Jim asked curiously.

“No.” She admitted. “No, but his ballet master requested one because of his feeds, she wants to check everything’s all on balance. There’s a chance that his blood sugars and electrolytes could be slightly off. We know the hospital have been keeping an eye on it, but Olga’s got a special interest, you see.”

“Special interest?” Freddie echoed. “That makes me sound like some kind of robot.”

“Oh, darling, of course not!” She chuckled. “No, it’s just because she knows these things awfully well. She knows how it all works better than any of the rest of us. She wanted to check your potassium levels especially.”

“She’ll be checking your risk of seizure.” Jim murmured. “After your surgery.”

“That feels like an awfully long time ago now, darling.” Freddie chuckled. “Let’s go, then.” He sat beside his lover and rested his head on his shoulder, tucking himself away so that he didn’t have to watch the needle go in.

“You know, after the hell of a ride that you’ve had over the past few months, I thought you’d be used to needles.” Jim wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his head. 

“I had to have two ports at any time and they kept blowing so I must’ve had about four cannulas put in a day for two weeks.” He winced as the needle slipped into his skin. “It’s enough to put a man off needles for life.”

Jim rubbed his side comfortingly. “You’re doing so well.” He murmured as she set up the vial.

“You guys are so sweet.” The nurse smiled at the both of them. “How long have you been together?”

“We met back in August.” Jim glanced down at his lover with hearts behind his eyes. “We got together in the first week of September.”

“How do you remember?” Freddie asked, cheeks warming.

“It was September the third. We moved into the bigger boat on the fourth.” Jim chuckled. “I don’t know, I just- I just remember.”

“So this is your first Christmas together?” She smiled.

“Yeah.” Freddie kissed Jim’s cheek. “It’s my kids’ first proper Christmas, too.”

She glanced up as she took the needle out his skin and grinned. “It’s such an amazing time of year for the little ones!” She agreed. “I’ll have the test results back for this before long.”

* * *

“Daddy!” Holly gasped as he added a pack of baubles to their trolley, her little eyes bright. “They’re sparkly!”

“Yes, sweetheart, they are.” Freddie laughed. “I think we should get some colourful ones. What colour do you think?” He held up a packet of red ones and a packet of gold ones.

Xavier pointed to the gold ones and Holly pointed at the red ones, and they turned to each other accusingly. “Yellow.” Xavier insisted, putting his thumb in his mouth resolutely. 

“I want the red ones!” Holly said loudly.

“Why don’t we get both?” Freddie put them both in the trolley, delighting in the smiles on their faces.

The trolley was filled quickly as soon as Freddie let them loose on the display, small fingers throwing tinsel and lights in as fast as they could manage - Freddie stood back and watched them with a chuckle. Everything about their house before had been so meticulous, so precise, fastidiously organised and prepared to look as beautiful as it could, more like a showhome than anywhere they were allowed to enjoy themselves. Now he could let them choose whatever they’d like, whatever they wanted to decorate with, whatever they could grab with their little hands-

He screeched when arms wrapped around his waist from behind, turning around accusingly; his heart rate slowed a little when he met the kind eyes of his boyfriend. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Pop!” Holly shouted, running over to him and hugging his leg; Jim laughed and picked up the little girl, pecking her forehead.

He glanced down at the trolley he’d been pushing - the cupboards were getting a little bare and he knew how much Freddie absolutely hated food shopping - and then chuckled. “Shopping, darling, much the same as you, though we seem to be buying very different things.”

“They’ve never been allowed to decorate the tree before.” Freddie explained. “And I couldn’t find any decorations in the boat, so I thought I’d come out and buy some with them.”

“We don’t even have a tree yet.” He said playfully and kissed Freddie’s cheek. “Though I have got the car, if you want to do that today.”

“Tree!” Xavier said excitedly. “Tree, tree!”

“I think that’s a yes.” Freddie dropped a kiss on his lips. “Thank you, darling.”

Jim smiled warmly. “It’s no problem, sweetheart.” He walked over to the display and picked up a decoration from the top shelf, before crouching down. “Holly, darling, come and look at this!”

She walked over curiously. “What does it say?” She asked.

“It has your name on it.” He smiled. “It’s a special one for you.”

She took the decoration from his hand - it was a little snow globe in the shape of a snowman, and whenever she shook it it exploded in a whirl of white snowflakes. “It’s pretty.” She whispered, looking up at her father and hugging him tightly. “Can I have it. Pop?”

“Of course you can, darling.” He lifted her and laughed when she squealed. “Let’s see if we can find one for Avi.”

Holly squinted, looking for the cross of the X for his name, and pointed triumphantly when she spotted it there. “There!”

“Good girl!” Jim grinned, picking it off the shelf and handing it to Xavier, who was now sat on Freddie’s hip. The little boy fumbled with it, not sure how it worked until Freddie showed him how to shake it.

He gasped when he saw the snow, shaking it vigorously to make it happen again. “Look, Daddy!” He said excitedly.

“I know, sweetheart.” Freddie chuckled. “Let’s go and pay for all this, why don’t we?”

* * *

It was like some kind of magical forest; Xavier ran ahead amongst the trees, dragging his sister with him, laughing as she pulled him to hide amongst the branches of the biggest tree. He crawled deep into the pines of the tree, giggling incessantly as he waved at Holly.

Freddie crouched down and laughed. “What are you doing, sweetness?” He chuckled.

“It’s big!” He said excitedly. “I want a big one!”

“How big can we go, Pop?” Freddie asked playfully, resting his head on his lover’s shoulder as Jim wound an arm around his waist.

“I think we should go as big as we can.” Jim smiled. “A nice tall tree.”

Xavier ran ahead in front of them and Jim walked behind, enjoying the feeling of Freddie against his side. “How was your day today, darling?” Freddie asked.

“It was tough.” He admitted, watching the children as they darted amongst the trees, trying to find their favourite. “I still find it hard when people are so sick that I can’t help them. I hate the comfort measures conversation.”

“Comfort measures?” Freddie asked, staying closer in an attempt to soothe him.

“When somebody’s so ill and there’s nothing you can do, you have to talk to the family and tell them that the only thing you can do is make them comfortable.” Jim squeezed him a little. “It’s just so hopeless. It’s like telling someone that you’re just waiting for their loved one to die so you can clear the bed.”

Freddie leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’m always in awe of how strong you are.” He said sweetly.

“I love you.” Jim murmured. “My life is much better now that you’ve given me such a wonderful family to come home to. You have no idea what the difference between coming home to half a bottle of wine and an empty house is in comparison to coming home to the house warm and the kids wanting to show me drawings or picking them up from nursery and making sandwiches while they run around like crazy trying to find where I’ve left the jam.”

Freddie chuckled. “You know the biggest change for me?” He asked. “I sleep through the night now. I used to wake up all the time because I was so scared that he’d do something to me or the kids or the house while I was asleep. I’m so much calmer.”

“Did he ever actually do anything while you slept?” Jim asked gently.

“I told you about the rules I had. I had to fall asleep an hour after him.” He took Jim’s hand and swung it lightly. “But sometimes I’d mess up because I was so exhausted. I’d be dancing on three or four hours of sleep, even less when the kids were up at all times of night, and so I’d just drift off for a nap before he came home, and then he’d find me asleep and he would wake me up by beating me fucking senseless.” He shivered. “Sometimes he did it in the middle of the night for no reason. Every time the bed creaked, I was awake.”

“Does that not happen anymore?” Jim asked.

“It sometimes does when you’re on nights.” Freddie admitted. “When it’s only me and the children in the house and the wind blows and the boat creaks, I wake up with my heart racing. But when you’re home, it’s- it’s because I trust you, I can sleep because I don’t feel like I’m on my own.”

“This one!” Holly shouted, standing by a tall, full tree. “Daddy, Pop, look!”

Jim threw a smile at his boyfriend and they went over to the little girl. “Do you think we should have this one, angel?”

Holly nodded vigorously. “Avi’s hidden.” She giggled.

Freddie knelt on the ground and opened his arms for the little boy, who laughed and ran straight into his arms. There was nothing he loved more than his father’s hugs, and he could coax him to do anything if he was offered a hug. Freddie held him close and kissed the top of his head, closing his eyes momentarily, before standing up and holding him tight.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Jim smiled. The tree was quickly picked up and wrapped, and Jim lifted it effortlessly; Freddie whistled playfully. “Oh, hush.” Jim laughed. “You’re far stronger than I am.”

“You seem to think that you’re the weakest man alive.” Freddie commented idly. “Thank you for letting us join in choosing the tree.”

* * *

He kicked off his sweatpants, too hot in bed with the warmth of himself and his boyfriend, and rolled over to settle back against Jim’s chest; he had learned that he much preferred to sleep against his lover and sacrifice his clothing than sleep on opposite sides of the bed. He laughed when Jim squeezed him and tangled their legs together, getting as close as he could, craving as much touch as he could have.

Jim wriggled, getting an arm trapped between Freddie and his giving tube, and Freddie laughed as he rolled around, trying to untangle himself. “Careful-” He murmured tiredly, uncooperative and sleepy and heavy. Jim pulled his tube and Freddie wriggled to try and get him free. “Ouch!” He squeaked. “Ouch, you bastard!”

Jim rolled him off and got both of them settled more comfortably. “Sorry.” He yawned with a chuckle when Freddie kissed at his neck. 

“It’s a pain in the ass, it’s okay.” He rubbed his stomach a little and pressed another kiss to his neck. “What time is it?”

“It’s-” Jim squinted at the clock in the darkness. “Half one in the morning.”

Freddie groaned and snuggled as close as possible. Jim wound an arm back around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, eyes fluttering closed again.

* * *

“I wrote a song.” Freddie blurted out quickly, his cheeks flaming scarlet. “We don’t have to listen to it, it’s fine, it’s probably not very good.”

“No, no, go on!” Roger said excitedly. “What’s it called?”

Freddie’s fingers hovered over the piano keys and bit his lip. “It doesn’t really have a name.” He admitted. “I’m not a very good pianist, I’ll probably mess this up-”

“Freddie!” Brian said exasperatedly. “Just give it a go, we don’t mind. You always sound great.” He added with a sunny smile.

He started to play, shoulders hunched with shyness; he looked almost as though he was trying to shield the notes from exploding into the room, but no matter how softly he played, the melody still met his friends’ ears.

He winced as he hit a wrong note, his eyes immediately brimming with embarrassed tears, and stopped playing immediately. “Sorry, sorry-” He murmured, standing up quickly. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“Freddie-” Roger stood up and rested a hand on the small of his back. “It sounds beautiful.”

He looked up, looking shocked by his words. “But I- I messed up.”

“And?” Brian smiled comfortingly. “We’re just playing around, you don’t have to be perfect. I think it sounds gorgeous as it is.”

He smiled shyly and looked down at his fingers. “Thank you.” He murmured.

* * *

“I can’t remember the last time I had drinks like this.” Freddie said softly, sipping the elegant cocktail that Jim had bought for him. “It’s beautiful, darling, thank you.” He smiled.

Jim dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I promised I’d bring you out for dinner when you were well enough, and I don’t break promises.” He sat beside his lover and wound an arm around his waist. “But I thought you might like a drink or two before we went.”

“I’ll go light, otherwise I won’t remember dinner at all.” Freddie laughed and rested his head on his shoulder. 

“Probably for the best.” Jim chuckled and pulled him as close as he considered acceptable. “The only downside of places like this is there’s only so close we can be without getting kicked out.”

Freddie leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Oh, sod them.” He chuckled, sitting himself in Jim’s lap. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him softly, excited that Freddie was so willing to be so close, even when they were in public. “Very much.”

Freddie chuckled and kissed him again, cheeks pinkening at the gentle hand on his waist. He looked up quickly when another hand rested on his shoulder, the skin unfamiliar and cold; the eyes were strange and he felt a little vulnerable under his gaze. “Hello?”

“Can I talk to you for a moment, sweetheart?” He asked, looking over Jim. “Over at the bar?”

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened and he stood up as gracefully as he could. Jim caught his wrist quickly, quirking an eyebrow to ask if he was okay, and Freddie nodded minutely; he followed the stranger to the bar, staying a few paces behind him just in case he went to grab him.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” The stranger asked. “I work here, I saw you with a guy. He’s not the same one, is he?”

“No.” Freddie said quietly. “No, I haven’t been here with this guy before.”

“Are you all good? I remember the other guy, I saw him smack you, he was yelling at you half the night.” He lowered his voice, not wanting to embarrass him. “I felt really fucking guilty that I didn’t step in. Is this new guy alright?”

Freddie started to smile a little and nodded. “He’s much better.” He said softly. “He doesn’t treat me like shit.”

“Good.” He squeezed his shoulder. “If you need someone to get you out of here, if something kicks off that you don’t want to be a part of, come to one of us and ask us to get you a taxi, alright?”

He smiled and ducked his head down shyly. “Thank you.” He said softly. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, sweetheart. If you’re happy, go be with your man.” He chuckled and slid him two drinks. “They’re on the house, an apology for being shit before.”

Freddie took them and beamed at him, taking them back over to Jim. “What-” Jim started, but Freddie pressed a finger to his lips.

“Hush.” He knelt on the sofa before his boyfriend. “I love you so fucking much.”

Jim’s smile was confused but so sweet and Freddie kissed him softly. “I love you.” He said again, finding liberation in the words, in the freedom to love. “I love you, I love you.” He repeated, kissing the corner of his mouth, and then pulling back a little to look at him again. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much for all of your lovely comments on this fic - you guys literally warm my heart and I appreciate every single one of you who takes the time to read the stories on my little corner of the internet!


	35. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank God it's Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU WANT THE FULL EFFECT WATCH THIS BEFORE YOU START: THIS IS FREDDIE'S DANCE https://youtu.be/EQvtB-4Pv-U?t=65
> 
> I feel like you can tell I got really into trying to do realistic big-family dialogue - these idiots make me so happy!

“Happy Christmas to you.” Jim kissed his nose. “Happy Christmas to you.” He kissed his forehead. “Happy Christmas, happy Christmas-” A kiss to his cheek. “Happy Christmas to you!” He finally met Freddie’s lips in a lazy kiss, and Freddie smiled sleepily.

“Mm-” He stretched out and wrapped his arms around his lover’s neck, kissing him again. “Happy Christmas.” He chuckled.

Jim nuzzled his neck and kissed the warm skin there again. “How are you?”

He opened his eyes and glanced around the room, chuckling to himself. They’d spent the night in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by posters of old dancers, and it felt so strange to have his lover in a room that he hadn’t been in for a long time. “I’m good, thank you.” He propped himself up on one elbow and rested a hand on his stomach. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” Jim agreed, kissing him again. 

Freddie glanced up at his feed. “I’m-” He frowned and leaned up, looking at the bottle. “Why am I only halfway through?”

Jim frowned. “Maybe your tube blocked?” He suggested. “We can change the giving tube and see if the rest will go down.”

He nodded and sat up; he knew better than to complain by now. “I’ve got a set in my bag.”

He leaned over and grabbing the packet, swapping it over for him quickly. “There we go. It’s started going again.”

“At least it’s not my tube.” He grabbed a wipe to clean around his button. “Can you chuck me some gauze?”

Jim opened a dressing pack and handed it over to him. “Everything all good?”

“Definitely.” He looked up and smiled as he put the gauze between his button and his skin. “If I do this now then I can forget about it for the rest of the day.”

“Good plan.” Jim stood up and pulled on his boxers, looking through his bag for pajamas. “I think your parents might have a heart attack if I walk downstairs to make coffee in my boxers.”

Freddie laughed. “This isn’t our house, darling.”

* * *

The children were absolutely showered in gifts, toys from every member of the family, two wonderfully warm blankets from Olga: they were cuddled up on one of the armchairs together, all snuggled up, playing happily.

“I might have gone a bit overboard.” Freddie smiled bashfully, handing over a bag full of presents for his lover. “I got excited.”

Jim wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his temple. “You didn’t have to get me anything, darling.”

“It’s a bit late now.” Olga commented with a chuckle. “Come on, you have to open them, Freddie’s been talking about them for weeks.”

“Guilty.” Freddie blushed and smiled at his lover. Jim took the first present from the bag and tore it open, unashamedly excited, and his eyes widened.

“You bought me scrubs?” He asked with a chuckle.

“You always complain about the sizing on the hospital ones. The waist is too big on the medium, and the hips are too tight on the small. These are supposed to be far more comfortable.” He smiled.

“Look closely on the chest.” Jer leaned over to look at them.

“Does everyone know what I’ve got except me?” He chuckled. He unfolded the top and looked at the embroidery on the chest, immediately breaking into a bright smile.

_ Dr. Jim Hutton. _

_ Emergency Consultant. _

“Oh, they’re perfect!” He hugged Freddie tightly. “I love them!” Freddie grinned and squealed when Jim nearly pushed him over. “You even got the right colour.”

“They had some gorgeous burgundy ones that I think would look amazing on you, but I know the different colours mean different things and you have to wear the turquoise ones.” Freddie laughed and kissed him sweetly. 

“You’re wonderful.” Jim kissed him softly. “I can’t believe you’ve got me anything else. This is more than I need.”

“I wanted to spoil you.” He giggled. “You spoil me.”

Jim tore open the next package, raising a confused eyebrow. “You’ll have to explain this one.”

“You rest it over your eyes and it’s a little weighted to help keep them closed. It’s supposed to help you sleep during the daytime.” He said shyly. “One of the doctors at the Royal swears by it.”

He weighed it in his hand and smiled. “You know that I always struggle to sleep during the day. That’s so thoughtful.” He pressed a kiss to his cheek again.

He tore open a hand cream and a temperature-controlled mug. “So I don’t keep complaining about my coffee going cold?” He chuckled.

“All the time.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re a caffeine addict.”

“I’m not!” He laughed.

“You are, darling.” Bomi chuckled. “First thing this morning you were down in the kitchen making a double espresso, and it’s Christmas day.”

Jim’s cheeks flushed and Freddie laughed. “Let me give you my presents.” He reached over beneath the tree and pulled out a bunch of presents for Freddie. “Before you look through these, you have to know that Olga helped me choose a lot of these.”

“I had to stop him from buying everything I suggested so that I’d have something to get you.” She laughed. 

Freddie suddenly looked more excited than the children had when they had opened their own presents - he hadn’t received a Christmas gift for a decade, and he couldn’t believe his lover had put so much time and thought into presents specifically for him. “Are you sure?” He whispered.

“Of course.” Jim rubbed his waist comfortingly. “Why don’t you start with this one?” He handed over a little package, soft and squidgy, and Freddie opened it slowly, savouring the excitement he felt.

It was a white t-shirt, perfect and fitted, with the word ‘daddy’ written in simple black letters; Freddie’s cheeks coloured and he broke out into a huge smile. “It’s beautiful.” He whispered.

“I know how much you like it when the children call you it.” Jim kissed his temple. “Why don’t you try it on?”

Freddie pulled his pajama t-shirt off and changed it for his new shirt; he was immediately impressed by how well it outlined his figure, especially how it sat and showed off the muscles of his arms. “I’m never taking it off.” He beamed.

Jim handed him the next present, much heavier, and Freddie tore this one open much more excitedly. He took out a pair of black pointe shoes, and looked at them closely; the toe box was a little more square, the arch of the foot more tapered. He’d always had a problem with the shoes, having to wear straight shoes that fit the ball of his foot but sat too wide around the arch and heel. “What are these?” He asked excitedly.

Jim shot Olga a look, and she laughed. “I helped with this one.” She smiled. “They’re the new Rudolf shoes. They’re designed for male feet, so you stop having to deal with loose elastics slipping all the time, and the box shouldn’t pinch as much.”

“That’s incredible.” He whispered. “Darling, thank you so much!” He wrapped an arm around Jim’s neck and kissed his cheek.

He unwrapped a pair of leg warmers, thigh-high, and some new tights; he’d never been more thankful in his life. 

“Open ours, darling!” Jer said excitedly, breaking their moment, and handed him another package; Freddie could feel the outline of another pair of shoes and he arched an eyebrow excitedly.

“I never thought I’d get so many shoes for Christmas.” He giggled as he tore open the parcel, holding them up excitedly.

“Tap shoes?” Olga questioned, watching as Freddie pulled them on hastily. “Can you tap dance?”

“I haven’t tried in years.” He stood up and pulled his giving tube off quickly, sealing both tubes up so he was free from his IV stand. “Let me give it a go.”

_ Let me give it a go.  _ Jim smiled - once upon a time, he wouldn’t have dreamed of doing anything he wasn’t wonderful at.

“Go on, baby.” He said encouragingly.

He smiled at him, testing out the slowest, most basic steps - heel to toe, toe to heel, heel to toe, toe to heel. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of his feet, the rhythm that they created all by themselves, and let his brain detach a little as he feet sped up, and he was dancing, he was tap dancing again, and he felt so free and so incredible-

He raised his arms above his head, turning so excitedly, his feet moving quicker than anybody could possibly see, so insanely fast. He couldn’t help it if he ended with a little stamp, a little flourish.

He laughed and opened his eyes, looking shyly over at Olga. “I guess I can still do it.” He chuckled.

“There’s my boy.” Jer smiled. “That’s the sound of your childhood. You used to stand and practice your tapping when you brushed your teeth.”

Freddie ran over to her, clattering as he went, and wrapped his arms around his mother. “Dewsett darem, Ma.” He kissed her cheek, smiling to himself. “These are wonderful.”

“I’m glad you like them, darling.” She smiled. “It’s nice to have my little dancer back.”

“I thought you might like this.” Bomi held out a tiny little parcel, wrapped in crepe paper and glue; he’d tried his best to make it neat.

Freddie opened it carefully, revealing the slightest little bracelet, the prettiest, daintiest thing Freddie had ever seen. “It’s beautiful.” He whispered.

“I chose it.” He smiled. “Four strands. Your mother, Kash, you and I.”

Freddie leaned over to kiss his father’s cheek. “It’s perfect, Dad, thank you.”

A few more gifts were exchanged; Freddie was gifted a pair of warm-up boots from Olga, Jim received a gift card for a massage from Freddie’s parents, Jer received a beautiful traditional dress from her husband and in turn gave him a specially embroidered silken blanket to keep his feet warm on the cold English nights.

The last present was Freddie’s for Olga, and he suddenly felt shy about it. 

“I hope you like it.” He murmured bashfully, handing her a large parcel, light and flat but stable. “You mentioned- you said the male figure was underrated, and you mentioned that you were moving into a new house, so I thought this could double up as a housewarming present and a Christmas present.”

She carefully opened the wrapping paper, smoothing each corner despite Freddie’s atrocious wrapping skills, and pulled out a set of two beautiful canvases. One was a pair of feet in pointe shoes, not dissimilar to the very ones she’d bought him, the foot wide at the ball and tapering towards the ankle; she could tell immediately that they were a man’s feet, firm and strong and beautiful. The second canvas, however, was even more wonderful, a male dancer at the barre, arm extended far above his head and bending into the curve of his spine, chest thrust towards the heavens; they were beautiful celebrations of the male form, and she was so shocked that he’d seemed to find the paintings so easily that she’d been looking for all her life.

“Darling, these are incredible!” She replied breathlessly, holding them out at arm’s length to admire every little shadow and contour painted diligently in oil paint. “I simply must know the artist of these, sweetheart, I want to fill my house with them.”

Freddie’s cheeks turned scarlet, and she didn’t understand for a moment until Jim gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “I painted them.” He said shyly, biting his lip.

“Darling, come here!” She held out her arms for him and hugged him tightly, savouring the feeling momentarily. “You know, Freddie, I never had a son, but I think if I had had a son, he would’ve been just like you. Sometimes you feel like my little boy.” She looked over at Jer. “Not that you don’t already have a wonderful mother, of course.”

“There’s more than enough of him to share.” Jer chuckled. “And I’m sure he’s got the love to spare.”

Freddie smiled and kissed her cheek. “Definitely.” He promised.

“Have we gotten to the point of Freddie’s handmade Christmas gifts yet? It’s not Christmas without Freddie’s handmade gifts.” Kash waltzed into the room, carrying yet another stack of presents with her. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Kash, darling!” Jer leaned up to hug her. “It’s okay, we haven’t done breakfast yet. Freddie’s done two paintings for Olga.”

She looked over them and whistled, putting her presents down in the centre. “They’re a damn sight better than I remember them being.” She teased, ruffling his hair. “Freddie, can we use the chair in your room at the dining table?”

Jer frowned. “Why, darling?” She asked. “We’ve got all the chairs we need.”

Kash went back behind the door frame and pulled a very reluctant man out from the shadows. “This is my boyfriend.” She announced happily, taking his hand and kissing his cheek.

Freddie met eyes with Roger, and they both stared at each other for a few seconds before Freddie groaned, looking over at Jim. “Suddenly I know things about my sister that I never needed to know.” He whispered in his ear. “He brags about getting laid all the time.”

“Freddie!” Roger said with an awkward smile. 

“You know Freddie?” She asked, looking up at Roger.

“I’ve been playing piano in Smile for about two and a half months.” Freddie chuckled. “I’m waiting for them to bin off the lead singer, but that’s a story for another day.”

Roger elbowed him and sat beside him when he shuffled over. “And this must be your boyfriend that you’re disgustingly in love with.”

Jim laughed and kissed the top of his head. “Something like that.” He murmured fondly. 

“Will we have enough food, darling?” Jer asked Bomi, sounding a little nervous.

“All he needs is a bit of vodka.” He muttered, bursting out laughing when Kash smacked him upside the head. “Watch it!”

* * *

He lay on one of the sofas, lethargic while the rest of the family fussed around the kitchen; he thought he’d probably faint if he walked into a room so disgustingly warm. “Darling?” He called idly, immediately amused when Kash, Jim and Jer all called back. “I meant Jim, sorry!” He laughed.

He came into the lounge, wiping his hands on a tea towel; as Freddie’s boyfriend, he’d been put on the chores that Freddie didn’t want to do, and that meant dishes. “Did we pack any Buscopan injections?” He asked, smiling when he dropped a kiss on his forehead. “I don’t know why I’m cramping on Christmas day of all days, but I am. I just want to enjoy the meal without worrying.”

“I don’t think we packed any specially, but I usually carry two or three in my kit in case you need them.” He draped the tea towel over the side of the sofa and smiled. “I’ll go and have a look.”

“He is cute.” Roger muttered sleepily from the other sofa; he’d been asleep since Jer had started him on a buck’s fizz that was far more alcohol than it was juice. “How’s your Christmas dinner?” He asked playfully, looking up at the IV pole with a grin.

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Freddie laughed and leaned forward as far as he could to kick him, though it ended up being more of a tap. “It’s vanilla flavoured. It’s been quite nice every time I’ve thrown it back up again.” He commented idly.

“You know, I don’t think I really realised you were ill.” He admitted. “Like, I knew you were ill, obviously. But seeing it now- it’s weird.” He admitted. “Makes it real.”

“I think Olga felt the same way when she saw me hooked up today. There’s a difference between having the tube and actually using it.” He shrugged. “I’m not that sick. I was much worse when I was in hospital.”

“Here we go.” Jim handed him a capped needle and smiled. “You alright to do it?”

“Yes.” Freddie leaned up to kiss him gently. “Thank you. I love you.”

Jim smiled and kissed him again. “Love you too, darling. Shout if you need me.”

“Will do.” Freddie watched him walk away, looking a little wistful, and so deeply in love.

“I was right, you are disgusting.” He chuckled, watching as Freddie pulled his shirt up a little and felt for the largest areas of fat on his stomach, increasingly difficult as he trained more and more. “You’re not going to- woah!” He sat up quickly, watching as Freddie injected himself. “What the hell?”

“It’s not poison.” Freddie laughed and delivered the second part on the other side of his stomach. “It’s just an injection.”

“But you’re- you’re doing it to yourself!” He said quickly. “What if it goes wrong?”

“There’s not much that can go wrong, darling.” He capped the needle again and placed it on the side, blotting a little blood off with the discarded shirt he’d been wearing that morning. “Jim’s an emergency consultant, so if I was fitting, or whatever, I’m sure he’d know what to do.”

“Are you coming in for dinner, boys?” Jer smiled. “We can’t chat the whole of Christmas day.”

* * *

Freddie pulled his tap shoes on again, unable to keep them off for too long; they’d eaten, he’d slept, and now his whole family were watching him expectantly. “I feel like I need music.” He smiled shyly.

“This is the one thing you’ve got on me.” Kash chuckled. “I’ll play piano for you.”

“Thank you, darling.” He smiled as she went over to the grand piano in the corner. “I need a violin, too.”

“I can oblige.” Roger grinned. “Have you got music?”

“I actually have.” Freddie clattered as he walked over to the piano, flicking through to find the right music for him. 

“Oh, I’ve played this before!” Roger smiled. “This is relatively common.”

“I’m glad.” Freddie smiled. 

“Push the sofas back!” Bomi said excitedly. “If this is what I think it is, we’ll need them back.”

“Dad, it’s fine!” Freddie laughed shyly. “I’ve got plenty of room.”

“Nonsense!” He insisted, getting Jim to help him pull the sofa back. “I haven’t watched you for a long time, it’s a treat.”

“I don’t even remember this choreography particularly well.” He said bashfully. “I choreographed this when I was about seventeen.” He told Jim, biting his lip shyly.

As soon as he started dancing, he looked so free and beautiful, almost as though he was floating, moving in a way that was so free and happy instead of restrained, as he’d seen when he was dancing ballet. Jim couldn’t even consider what he’d been worried about, when he saw him so free and wonderful, so unbelievably confident in himself.

Freddie felt as though he was up in the air, having not danced for his family in so long, reclaiming a Christmas tradition that had been all their own. He loved to dance for them, loved for them to be proud of him; nothing ever filled him with such delight.

* * *

Xavier held onto Holly’s hand tightly as they approached their parents’ room, giggling and shushing each other the whole way, holding special drawings that they’d done while Freddie had been asleep and Jim had been chatting with Olga. One was Jim, dressed in his scrubs, holding Holly’s hand as they stood together in front of the London skyline; the other was Freddie with Jim, in a giant bed, snuggled up together like Freddie liked to do on tough days.

Holly opened the door, spotting Freddie laying against his lover, snuggled up as Jim made his way through a few pages of his book; after all the excitement and energy of the day, Freddie was crashing, and Jim needed to help his brain turn off. She went over to the bed and bit her lip shyly. “Pop?” She whispered.

Jim put his book down and smiled at her. “What are you doing, princess?”

“Presents!” She said excitedly, handing him the drawings. 

He couldn’t hold back his grin as he looked over them, every little detail they’d worked hard to include. “These are brilliant!” He leaned down to pick her up, only then seeing as Xavier clambered his way into Freddie’s arms. “Be gentle, baby, Daddy’s nearly sleeping.”

Freddie managed to crack a tired eye open to look over the drawings, his heart immediately filling with love for his little ones. “You’re both amazing.” He murmured with a smile. “These are beautiful.”

He took his little boy in his arms and closed his eyes again, cradling him against his chest. He knew that eventually they’d have to be put to bed properly, but for now, he was happy to let his lover do the work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really considering a sequel to Peccant - I'm really enjoying writing chronic illness / Jim as a doctor. What are people's thoughts on that?


	36. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all thought ao3 being down was going to stop me?

Freddie rested his forehead against Jim’s hand, feeling exhausted. “I’m sorry.” He murmured for the fourth time in the last ten minutes.

“Freddie!” Jim chuckled, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. “It’s fine, baby, honestly.”

He always looked so small, so vulnerable, in hospital beds; Jim wanted to cradle him close and make him better forever. “You only just left work.” He whispered.

“And?” Jim replied, crossing his legs in the rather uncomfortable seat. “You had another seizure, darling, I wasn’t about to just leave you on the floor. You must’ve given your head such a whack.” He carefully ran his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “Although, I think you must’ve cushioned it on your arm, because your scans didn’t show anything.”

“I really don’t remember anything.” He rubbed his forehead. “What was it?”

“We’re not sure yet. It could be one of your medications, or a problem with your feed, or you could have a hangover injury from Paul.” He stroked Freddie’s cheek gently. “We’re waiting for bloods to come back from the lab.”

“Where was I?” He asked.

“You were in the kitchen. I had to bandage up your fingers, I think you must’ve had a glass of water that smashed when you fell.” He kissed his hand gently. “They stitched them up while you were still a bit out of it.”

Freddie closed his eyes while he listened to him. “They’re sore.” He admitted.

“I know, darling, we just don’t want to pump you full of medication if that’s going to make you have another seizure.” He murmured, looking up when one of his colleagues came in. 

“Do you want to have a look at the bloods?” He offered, and Jim jumped up quickly to look at the document in his hand. “We reckon that’s it.” 

Jim was the most senior member of staff in the department, even when he wasn’t on shift, and he liked to make decisions for his lover; it was his way of showing he loved him, that he cared. Making his lover feel better, feel cared for and safe, in less pain, was the best way he could love him. “It’s the sodium level.” He agreed. “So I want a cannula in, diuretics and a high sodium saline bag. If you-” He looked over some of the numbers. “Could get some potassium going, too, that would be wonderful.”

Freddie heaved his eyes open and looked up at him. “Am I okay?” He whispered.

Jim cupped his cheek and cradled his head gently. “No wonder you’re so exhausted, sweetheart.” He leaned down to kiss his forehead gently. “Your electrolytes are totally off. Your sodium is ridiculously low, which is why you had the seizure.” He said gently.

“Why are they off?” He asked tiredly.

“I imagine we need to adjust your feed. It’ll be because it’s not balanced for you to do a whole day of dancing while you’re in a flare.” He stroked his cheek gently. “You can sleep, darling, now I know you’re okay. We’re going to help you.”

It took Freddie barely three minutes to fall asleep, looking beautiful, if a little grey, and Jim drew the curtain around the bay and walked out to the nurses’ station. “Coffee?” Matthew offered, handing him an espresso in a polystyrene cup with a shy smile; they’d gotten back on speaking terms quickly for the sake of work, but Jim could remember why they’d been such good friends. 

“Coffee.” He agreed, taking it and sipping it tiredly. “God, I was supposed to be in bed by now.”

“Quite the shock?” He asked sympathetically.

“The school phoned the reception desk to say that no one had picked up the kids, but Jer went and sorted that out for me, and I got home and he was on the floor with a shit tonne of blood from his hand and I nearly fainted.” He chuckled a little. “And I don’t faint at anything.”

“It’s always different if it’s someone you know. I imagine if one of your little ones came in, you’d probably be sick.” He pointed out, sipping his own coffee. “When’s your next shift?”

“About six hours.” Jim looked wearily up at the clock and chuckled. “I might die. I was on a late and then an early.”

“Honey, why don’t you take one of the family rooms?” He suggested. “It’s coming on midnight. He’ll be here for hours while the infusion works, you both need your rest. I’ll phone around and see if there’s any family rooms with bariatric beds.”

“Bariatric?” Jim echoed.

“They’re practically double beds, there’ll be enough room for both of you and more. I’d get you a room with two beds, but I assume you’d probably end up sharing one anyway.” He chuckled. “I’ll get back to you.”

* * *

“Okay, sweetheart, you’re okay.” Jim whispered as Freddie started to wake. He was carrying him to another bed, fast asleep against his chest, though he was beginning to rouse from the movement and noise all around him; Jim wondered how he ever managed to get any rest in the emergency department at all. “We’re just going to a different bed.”

“Why?” He asked in a whisper. 

“Because I want some rest too.” Jim chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “It’s one in the morning. I’m back on shift in four hours.”

“Home.” He murmured tiredly.

“Not yet, sweetheart. You’ve got lots of infusions going, we need to finish them before we go home. By the time I finish my shift, you should be okay to go home.” He lay Freddie down in the bigger bed and then kicked his shoes off, relieved to be able to lie down. His head was pounding from tiredness.

Freddie settled easily again, and Jim’s eyes slipped closed barely seconds later, even as nurses bustled around them.

* * *

“I-” Jim looked drained, and he’d practically shotted four espressos in the last half an hour just to keep his brain ticking over. “What’s the status on those red phone calls?”

“RTC eta eight minutes.” Matthew relayed. “Fall from height in two. Three bays clear.”

“Three bays?” Jim echoed. “Shit. How are we looking at getting two and six up onto the wards?”

“It’s not looking likely. Hospital’s at ninety-eight percent.” He replied.

“Shit.” He repeated. “Okay, we’ll have to start having beds in corridors. Ring around and see if anyone can support, we need a nurse to two beds at least. Can you-” He sighed. “I’m going to have to turf Freddie out of that room. Can you ring up to gastro and see if they’ll take him? Or the acute care ward, or even the fucking Chelsea wing, I don’t care, I’ll pay the bill, just get him off my ward.”

“I’ll go Chelsea. They’re not at capacity.” He nodded and picked up the phone again.

“Thanks.” Jim made the conscious decision to shove his hands in his pockets so that he wouldn’t want to get too involved with any one patient; everyone was so damn sick today that he just wanted to dive in, to get going with CPR, to help however he could. But this ward needing managing: this ward needing someone coordinating beds and care so that everyone survived, not just one person, and that was his job.

He listened in for one of the handovers, trying to make note of everything that was important - _ critically low blood pressure, start fluids, head injuries, CT, smashed ribs, intubate, try to ignore the fact that she’s an eleven-year-old girl - _and looked at the ceiling for two seconds before he started speaking. “I want fluids, intubation, two milligrams of morphine, oxygen. This is time critical, come on, let’s go!” He caught one of the nurses by the shoulder. “I want a full CT, head and torso priority, and someone get on the phone to the parents.”

He wasn’t even sure that he could hear him. He walked over to the bed, immediately feeling protective of her - he hated the idea that his little girl would be in a strange hospital without anyone there that she knew, smashed to pieces and in pain and frightened - and crouched beside the bed, talking his focus off the ward for just two seconds.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He said gently. Her head turned in his direction, her eyes focusing in on his face, and he smiled. “My name’s Jim, I’m one of the doctors here, I’m going to make sure that everyone’s looking after you. If you need anything, anything at all, then you tell me, okay?”

She nodded and he smiled. “Good girl.” He said softly.

He stood up and turned to another of the doctors. “It’s probably best if you put her to sleep for a little while. She’s responsive.”

* * *

It was - God, Jim thought tiredly, it was four o’clock in the afternoon and he’d been on the ward since five in the morning, he was absolutely exhausted; he’d been surviving on at least fourteen coffees and two cigarettes, rushed and burning the back of his throat. 

He swiped his pass to the Chelsea ward, relieved to walk into somewhere so clean and so quiet, nothing like his own ward with hastily mopped blood on the floor, screaming and sobbing - it always overwhelmed him after a while. He opened the door with Freddie’s name on it and smiled at the sight inside, his lover propped up amongst pillows with far more colour in his cheeks. “Hello, darling.”

Freddie looked up quickly and beamed at him. “You came to see me!”

“Of course I did.” He knelt by the bed, not letting himself sit down comfortably in case he fell asleep. “Are you doing okay?”

“I was worried when they moved me that you’d lose track of where I was.” He reached for Jim’s hand and smiled. “I like it here. The food is incredible, and the beds are so comfy. It’s my new favourite ward.”

“That’s because you’re in the Chelsea ward. I kicked you out of A&E, so I decided where you went, and I thought you might like it here.” He rested his forehead against Freddie’s hand and took a few breaths. “It’s crazy down there.”

“I don’t really know what this ward is.” He admitted. “You’re finished now, though, aren’t you?”

“It’s a private ward. I’m paying for it.” He chuckled tiredly. “I’d expect it to be nice. No, I’m going back down in about ten minutes, I’m going for another two hours to support. I’ve only done eleven hours so far.”

“Only.” Freddie replied softly. “You’re so strong, darling.”

Jim smiled and kissed him gently. “I thought it might be nice and relaxing to come up here for a while.” He admitted. “I’ve got a little girl, she’s got a bleed on the brain and her chest is smashed up. She’s been with us for six hours, and her parents just aren’t turning up. I’m moving onto her critical care team when I get back, there’s finally another consultant on the ward.”

“Is she okay?” He asked.

“She’s pretty confused. She called me Daddy earlier.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know whether to report it to social services.”

“Do it.” Freddie said immediately. “The worst that happens is she’s got a loving family at home and they discover that. If you’re worried, do it.”

“I guess I learned that lesson the hard way.” He kissed Freddie’s wrist; his hand was still occupied by a cannula.

* * *

“She’s going into emergency foster care.” Catherine told him. “Her family are known to us already for dodgy incidents, and these are force injuries. We’re not taking any risks.”

Jim was exhausted, and he could’ve cried at the news; he’d been working for fifteen and a half hours straight, but it was worth it to know that he could’ve saved somebody the first time he’d seen them. He’d learned from everything, learned from his hesitancy with Freddie, and he’d saved someone; no one would ever be hurt on his watch, never again.

He threw his gloves in the bin, battered and blood-stained, and looked down at his once-fresh scrubs covered in everything the day had had to throw at him. He’d made a difference today.

And when Freddie pulled himself up on his crutches, smiling lovingly at his partner, he knew that he’d made a difference before, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Peccant! Thank you for sharing this short and sharp journey with me - it has truly been a pleasure to pick up some new readers along the way!
> 
> Watch out for the sequel - coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos if you enjoyed - kids, be nice in the comments, this is obviously an incredibly sensitive topic!


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